A Butterfly Effect
by SlyGoddess
Summary: A simple choice: today or tomorrow? Conceived a day earlier, a heroine, not a hero, is born. With every step, with every waking breath, Harriet Lily Potter rewrites history. But is the world truly ready to be rewritten? Does Ginny Weasley fully comprehend what it might mean to befriend this lonely, love-starved girl? - Femslash&Het - H/G main - Full summary inside -BACK FROM HIATUS
1. Wings in Brazil Tornado in Texas

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I don't make money from the content, property of JKR, yada yada yada, and so on and so forth.

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**WELCOME TO A.B.E**

******Fan-art for the story can be found on my Homepage. Some NSFW content.**

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**Full Summary:** A butterfly flaps its wings in Brazil and a tornado brews in Texas. A simple choice: today or tomorrow? Conceived a day earlier, the Boy Who Lived was never born. He wasn't even a glimmer in his parents' eyes.

But _she_ was; Harriet Lily Potter... Harry; the girl that grew up in a cupboard; the girl with safety-pinned knickers; the girl that was never wanted by the only family she had left; the girl that would give _anything_ for the slightest bit of love.

With a lightning bolt scar, her mother's face, and her father's messy hair, Harriet has always been far less than welcome in the Dursley household. Ten years old, unloved, and uncared for, she's already seen more hardship than most will see in their entire lives. In fact, her life can't get much worse. Yet on July thirtieth, a strange letter is pushed through the Dursley's mail slot, turning her miserable world upside down. Discovering her magical heritage, Harry _finally_ finds a place to belong and, after a chance meeting in a train station, she just might have found someone to _love_ her.

What happens when the shoes of a hero are filled by the feet of a heroine? How does the world change? How do relationships change? How important can one person _possibly_ be?

Follow Harry down the familiar path. Follow her as she steps off it. Walk with her as she creates ripples of flux that grow and twist into massive tsunamis, changing the course of history as we know it... for better... or for worse.

**(Not a canon rehash. ****'The Butterfly Effect' is a common trope in fiction when presenting scenarios involving time travel and 'what ifs' in which one storyline will diverge at the moment of a seemingly minor event. Change will build between the two storylines exponentially, eventually resulting in two significantly different outcomes.)**

**Rating:** M for violence, gore, language, sexual situations (17+ in select chapters), and very sensitive themes (this story has some extreme dark bits as well as happy fluffy light bits)

**Genre:** Action/Adventure; Romance; Drama; Hurt & Comfort

**Pairings:** An overwhelming meal of **H/G (Fem/)** with a side-dish of H/R (Het), H/D (Het), H/L (Fem/), **R/Hr, D/PP** (main and final pairings are H/G, R/Hr, D/PP)

_My problem with the term 'pairings' for this story:_ I'm all for realism. In reality, we don't have _'pairings.'_ The vast scale of human interaction goes far beyond a simple 'so and so has sex with so and so.' This story, even though fantastical in nature, is a _realistic_ romance. There are _multiple_ main characters, rather than just the two in the featured '_ship,' _and Harry's relationships with all of them are based on connections that run far deeper than sex, attraction, or romance. When you reach the end of the second book, you'll see exactly what I mean.

If, however, you're the type of reader that immediately leaves a story when they don't see their favorite _'pairing,'_ or sees a _'pairing'_ that they don't like, then that's absolutely fine, but you'll miss out on what I've been told is a damn good story.

**Preemptive**** Notes:**

**- **I love purely positive reviews, but real criticism is more helpful.

- Go read the _Backwards with Purpose_ series by **Deadwoodpecker** and _Harry Potter and the Wastelands of Time _by **Joe6991**. These stories are filled with some serious imagination power that in turn sparked my own. They inspired me to pick up the pen and start writing after a year of dealing with some heavy shit. This story is nothing similar, but still, check them out. 'Shippers' of every type will appreciate them.

- Big thanks to **Osma77** and **Baby-Summer-Gurl** for their work as beta readers.

- Should you come across any typos or grammatical errors while you read, feel free to post them in my open beta forum and I will correct them as soon as I am able.

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**A Butterfly Effect**

-by SG

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**Prologue 1: Today or Tomorrow**

_"And all the families of the families of the families of that one mouse! With a stamp of your foot, you annihilate first one, then a dozen, then a thousand, a million, a billion possible mice!"_

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Lily stared hollowly at him, an expression of disbelief smeared across her beautiful face.

"So, James... let me get this straight. You're telling me that on October thirtieth, _one day before our first anniversary..._" Her piercing green eyes narrowed and James instinctively took a step back, discreetly covering important parts of his anatomy. "... you want us to go out for a _few_ pints with the boys?"

James gulped. They had been having a row for the past ten minutes and his wife was clearly losing her patience. He was going to have to pull out the big guns. "Lils, _sweetie_, it's just for an hour or two. We can try when we get back. It's been forever since we've been out. What's the point of life if we're too afraid to live it?"

The short redhead in front of him flared with anger. Despite Lily's small stature, James could have sworn that she was swelling to what could only be described as _twice_ her original height.

"DON'T YOU DARE _'LILS, SWEETIE'_ ME, JAMES THEODORE POTTER! I KNOW ALL OF YOUR TRICKS AND I AM IMMUNE TO EACH AND EVERY ONE!"

The kitchen door banged open.

"I'm telling you, Worms, they _finally_ have a chance at the cup! Chudley's keeper has been unstoppable. Didn't you see that-"

Sirius and Peter, whom had just reentered the living room, froze in their tracks at the sight of the incensed redhead. Peter shot Sirius a knowing look and nodded back towards the kitchen. His best friend sighed resignedly, stuffed the pumpkin pasty he was holding into his mouth, gave Lily a military salute, winked at him, turned, and marched right back into the kitchen... in a near goose-step fashion. Peter rolled his eyes at Sirius' antics and, smiling fondly at James and Lily, followed the taller man out of the room.

James looked back to his wife and was relieved to see that the corners of her mouth had twitched upwards. He thanked God for Sirius. A little bit of nicely-timed humor was always the best way to diffuse the ticking time bomb that was Lily. It reeled her back in.

The enraged woman seemed to shrink before his very eyes as her anger melted away.

"Lils..." he said softly, "I'm sorry. I don't want to row... I just... I feel like we're trapped in this house."

Folding her arms, she stomped towards him and, rather surprisingly, leaned into his chest, lightly touching her forehead to his chin.

James raised a finger and tilted her head upwards. Up close, her sparkling emerald-green eyes always took his breath away. "I _am_ sorry."

Lily wrapped her arms up and around his neck, releasing a heavy sigh into the collar of his jumper. When she finally spoke, her tone was gentle... sad even. "James, you _know_ I want to go out and have fun for a change. You know I do. But this is our second to last chance to try before my ovulation cycle ends. It's either today or tomorrow that we make this happen. We both know for a fact that if we go out to the pub tonight, there is _no way_ either of us will be able to manage anything more than a few kisses before we fall asleep."

She cupped his cheek and continued. "We're sleepy drunks, James; you know it just as well as I do. And we also both know we're going to be tired tomorrow after dinner... and the match." James let out an indignant sputter and Lily smiled mischievously. "Yes, I know all about your wonderful surprise dinner in the top box at the Harpies game. _Honestly_… why you tell Remus anything secret is beyond me. He's the largest blabbermouth in the world… well, apart from my wayward sister that is."

James grimaced. He was going to _kill_ Remus... and then kill him once more for good measure.

Lily buried her nose into his shirt and breathed him in. "James, I want a _baby_. I want a baby so bad it hurts. I want _your_ baby. _Our_ baby. I want to see him stare up at me with those big chocolate brown eyes of yours and I want him as soon as possible. I'm on so many fertility potions that it's making my head spin. I don't want to wait another month to try and conceive. I want him before one of us gets fed up with cowering from Voldemort and goes off to do something stupid and brave for the war effort."

James looked down into the eyes of the love of his life and said huskily, "I want that too, Lils."

"Then please, let's stay in tonight." Raking her fingernails over his shoulders and his chest, Lily stood on her tip-toes to brush her lips against his. "Let's make a baby together."

James grunted affirmatively, his body singing with want for her exquisite figure. As they embraced to share a soft, loving kiss, her words fully hit home. Grinning against her mouth he whispered, "So... I have you convinced that the Potter line only produces boys, do I?"

Swatting his arm playfully, she whispered back, "Well, if it _is_ a girl, we're bloody well not naming our daughter Harold."

James laughed and adopted the most pompous imitation of Lucius Malfoy he could muster. "Harold is a most _ancient_ and _noble_ name for a young witch of pure-blood and upstanding… standing," he finished lamely.

Lily giggled and sighed into his neck. "Him... Her... what does it matter as long as it's _ours?_ We can pick any name you want, love."

James grinned. "Oh _really?_ What about Petunia?"

Lily moaned miserably into his shirt.

"_Kidding!_ I was only kidding!" he said with a chuckle, pulling her chin up for another good, sound snog.

As their hands started to roam and their breath became heavy, Sirius, Peter, and Remus reentered the room.

"The battle has ended!" cried Sirius exuberantly, breaking their kiss by pulling them both into a one-armed hug. "_Huzzah!_ Let's get going before the Death Eaters drink all the rum!"

Lily tore herself away from Sirius' embrace and flicked their friend squarely on the nose.

_"Ouch!_ What was that for, you _menacing_ woman?" asked Sirius indignantly, rubbing at the spot.

Remus slung an arm around Sirius' shoulder and flicked him in the ear. "Probably for being a wise-arse, Padfoot."

Sirius swatted him away and retorted with his customary, "Get bent, Moony."

Laughing wholesomely for the first time in week, James patted his friend gently on the shoulder. "Sorry, mate, but I think we're staying in tonight."

Sirius was clearly unsurprised by this news. He let out a cough that purposely failed to disguise the sound of a whip-crack and shuffled resignedly towards the door of the cottage. "Redheads, Prongs. I warned you. _I_ _warned you_."

Peter let out a snort and replied, "This coming from the man who is _oh-so-desperate_ to get us out to the Three Broomsticks... which is obviously just an excuse to disguise his poor attempt at courting a certain rather... _buxom…_ redheaded barmaid?"

Sirius Black rarely blushed, but the few times that he did were usually caused by Peter's occasional bouts of lightning quick wit.

"Ah…yes…well, that's completely beside the point," stuttered Sirius.

Lily giggled and stepped around James, giving the three departing men a quick hug as they donned coats and walked out into the chilly autumn air.

Remus called back, "Have fun at the match, you two."

James pulled out his wand and thumbed it threateningly. "Honestly, Moony, you're a dead man."

Remus laughed the threat off and waved jovially.

Lily adopted her sternest voice, implying that what she had to say next was not a request, but rather, a subtly-disguised demand that would have serious consequences if not obeyed. "You three _will _come by for dinner on Tuesday, won't you? Frank and Alice are coming over. We can do a big sit down and catch up."

Sirius halted on the doorstep and gave Lily another quick hug. "Of course we will, Prongslette. There isn't a force on this earth that can keep me from your cooking. James' cooking... yes... many forces. But yours? Not a one."

James shot the man his best wounded puppy-dog face. "Oh come now, Padfoot... It isn't _that_ bad!"

Sirius grimaced as if he were remembering a rather painful memory.

Lily cupped James' cheek and said overly sweetly, "I know you can make pancakes, Honey. It was entirely the pan's fault."

Sirius buttoned up his coat and leaned forward to whisper into James' ear, before marching his ridiculous goose-step down the front path. He caught up to Peter and Remus, who were briskly moving towards the picket fence and past the wards.

Lily called out, "Be safe, boys!"

The three men raised their hands in parting and with loud pops barely audible in the wind, they disapparated.

Lily shivered, patted James on the chest, and pulled him back inside. "So, what departing words of wisdom did Mr. Padfoot have for you this time?" she asked curiously.

Blood rushed to the lower part of his body as he turned to look at her. Raising his hand, he tweaked her nose, just as Sirius had.

Lily glared at him in mock outrage, growling playfully, as if she knew what he was going to say.

James let his hand linger, trailing it down her neck and over the sensitive spot on her collarbone. He knew this body better than he knew his own. The purring noise she made whenever his lips found that spot drove him absolutely wild.

Lily closed her eyes and stepped closer to him, pressing her hips into his groin, brushing feather light kisses on his neck.

His hand went down... thumb brushing against the curve of her breast; down... pausing at the small of her back to have her arch into him with a gasp; down... fingers finding the hem of her dress where silky fabric met the creamy skin of her thigh. He slipped his hand inside the lining of her lingerie and lightly pressed at the flesh right behind her womanhood.

Lily's knees gave out, as he knew they would. She slumped against him, moaning his name under her breath, her green eyes half-closed in pleasure..

James' teeth found her earlobe as his free hand tangled into her sweet-smelling red hair. Whispering softly into her ear, he answered her lingering question. "Mr. Padfoot tells me that make-up sex… _is the best sex_."

Chuckling, he dropped down, wrapped his arms around her upper thighs, and hoisted her into a fireman's hold. Carrying a squealing Lily into their bedroom, he turned and used his foot to shut the door with an eager _SLAM_.

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**Prologue 2: The Wreckage**

_BOOM BOOM BOOM_

"No, Goggy, I jus'… fed yah."

_BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM_

"Lemm sleep now; tha's a good boy."

_BOOM BOOM_

"HAGRID!" screamed a frantic voice. "OPEN THE _BLOODY_ DOOR!"

_BOOM BOOM_

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, MAN! HOW MUCH DID YOU HAVE?"

_BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM_

He opened a bleary eyelid. It took several long minutes for his vision to clear. There was such a throbbing in his temples that he found it difficult to sit up from his bed.

"Good grief, me `ead."

With a tremendous grunt, Hagrid lifted himself off the mattress and stumbled through the dark, feeling his way along furniture towards the front room of the hut.

"OOMPH."

He stumbled over something fleshy and round. There was a loud whine and a scuttling beneath his feet.

"Oh sorry there, Fang… didn' see yeh."

The pup was small; a runt really. Hagrid had spent many an hour trying to find the dog amongst the hidey-holes around the hut. In the dark, it was nigh impossible to spot his tiny black body.

Careful of where he placed his feet, so as not to stomp on the tails of any of the other pups from the litter, he slowly shuffled towards the door.

_BOOM BOOM BOOM_

"HAGRID, OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I WILL BLOW THE DAMN THING DOWN!"

"I'M COMIN," Hagrid shouted back tiredly. "MERLIN'S BEARD! KEEP YER BRITCHES ON!"

He picked up his umbrella and tapped it against the door frame. There was a faint shimmer and a soft hum. Hagrid grabbed the door bolt, slid it aside, and wrenched it open in a huff.

It was pouring outside. The wind was howling over the treetops, blowing rain and fog in every direction.

The man on his doorstep didn't speak, merely stared at him from beneath his sopping-wet hood.

As he could only see ten or so meters through the fog and rain, Hagrid couldn't quite tell just who his visitor was. After a lengthy pause of silence, he raised his umbrella and pointed it threateningly at the man's face. However, right as he opened his mouth to tell whoever this shady bugger was to shove off, a brief lightning flash lit both the sky... and the visage under the hood.

"Si-Sirius?" gasped Hagrid, lowering the umbrella. He peered suspiciously out into the storm to search for followers, before moving aside to leave a space wide enough for Sirius to squeeze through. "What'r yeh doin 'ere? I though' yeh were supposed ter be in hidin' with Remus and Emmeline."

Closing the door quietly, Hagrid turned around and immediately went cross-eyed as the tip of a wand pressed right into the bridge of his nose.

"Hagrid?" asked Sirius tentatively, speaking in a slow, dangerous voice that dripped with a steely... _something_; a something that Hagrid had never heard before from the jaunty youth's mouth. "Who did you catch me snogging in your pumpkin patch five years ago this exact night?"

Hagrid was dumbfounded for a split-second, before realizing _why_ there was a threatening piece of holly pointed at his face.

"Oh er…" he racked his brain. "Rosemerta, wasn' it? Didn' she knee yeh in the bits in surprise? Right spooky sort o' place fer a Holloween kiss if yeh ask me."

Hagrid grinned, expecting to see a similar expression break over the young man's face. However, when the only acknowledgement of his ribbing was a slump of the shoulders and a drop of the wand, he became _extremely_ concerned .

"Sirius," he whispered. "Wha's this all about? It's nearly-"

Sirius cut him off. "I need my bike, Hagrid… now."

Hagrid's eyes bulged. "Whaaa'? What'r yeh on about? Wha's happened?"

"Hagrid… where is it?"

The anger bubbling in Sirius' voice shocked him. It was odd that a man half his size could chill him to the bone with naught but a few words.

"Ou' in the patch," answered Hagrid apprehensively.

Without a word, Sirius whirled around and threw open the door, stalking out into the rain.

Hagrid followed closely behind him, all the while trying to glean _why_ Sirius was so upset. As they made their way across the hundred meters to the muddy patch of ground where Sirius' bike lay hidden, he could not help but feel an overwhelming sense of dread.

Hagrid knew that the Death Eaters had been especially... _active_... as of late.

"Sirius… Did summat happen at Hogsmeade? Did summat happen ter Rosy?"

Sirius growled and exploded a nearby pumpkin as he randomly disillusioned areas of the patch.

Hagrid's sense of dread multiplied tenfold.

Sirius found and mounted his uncovered bike, pressing his wand to the ignition. The headlight blazed and the engine roared into life. As the motorcycle began to pull away from the ground, Hagrid reached down and put a hand on the man's shoulder.

Composing himself, he asked gruffly, "Sirius… w_ha's happened?_"

Sirius gazed hollowly at the fingers that were keeping him on the ground. The young man took a deep, steadying breath. "He found them. _H__e found them,_ Hagrid."

Hagrid's hand slid off Sirius' shoulder to fall limply at his side. He mouthed like a fish, searching for words. "But… _no_. He can't `ave!"

"The wards fell. There's an eighty kilometer anti-apparition field in every direction around Godric's Hollow. Find Dumbledore, I'm sure he already knows."

With Sirius' last word, the bike shot into the air. A good fifty meters it had risen before a monstrous blast of dragon's flame erupted from the rear exhaust pipes. In a flash and a bang, Sirius and his black motorbike were gone.

Hagrid stood rooted to the spot. He didn't know what to think.

_What to do?_

He looked up at the castle and saw a silver flash rush out of a tower window overlooking the Great Hall. It sped away from the walls, illuminating the many brilliant colors of the paned glass windows. Hagrid realized with a jolt that it was headed straight towards him.

When the light finally came to a halt at his feet, he heard four words from the phoenix patronus that confirmed everything Sirius had said was true.

"Hagrid? My office, please."

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Sirius Black rode like a man possessed, pushing the piece of muggle junk-metal to its absolute limit. He had run out of charges for the dragon's fire a few kilometers back.

He was so close.

Ten kilometers.

Eight kilometers.

Three.

One...

And then... he saw it; the skull and the serpent, ghostly and shimmering in the rain.

_No!_

With reckless abandon, Sirius crash-landed the bike into the picket fence.

_Please, God! No!_

Throwing himself off the smoking machine, he raced across the yard to the front door, ripping his wand from its holster.

Sirius paused in disbelief outside the frame. At the sight of the wood that was torn from its hinges, his Auror training went out the window. Barreling into the living room, he shouted so loudly that he thought his vocal chords would tear, "JAMES! LILY! WHERE ARE YOU?"

Scorch marks and spell burns lined the walls; furniture was missing and upturned; the lamps in the kitchen flickered from the ambient magic he could still taste in the air. The fight had taken place less than an hour ago. What frightened him most were the dead and bloodied corpses of animals strewn all over. Some were only half-transfigured.

_James... _

He saw the bedroom door ajar, covered in large holes. As he stumbled towards it in the shaky light, his foot kicked something in the shadows.

It flew forward and Sirius gagged.

A severed hand… with a wedding ring. He stared at it numbly as it sat upon the red carpet…

_Red carpet._

_Red carpet?_

_The carpet in this house is white._

_Oh James..._

Sirius reached the bedroom and lit his wand. What he saw inside that room made his heart break a thousand times and a thousand times again. The body lay propped against the dresser, deep wounds covering every inch. The eyes were burned… _no_… gouged out; an arm was dripping blood from the severed wrist. Pain was on his face. His wand was at his side. The shattered glass from the dresser mirror was spread around him, each piece tinged red.

Sirius fell to his knees in front of the body. He dry-retched for a good five minutes before he could muster the strength to acknowledge James' still form.

_Prongs... You did good, mate; you were everything I wasn't and everything I wanted to be. But this isn't goodbye... I'll see you again._

His knees weak, he stood shakily. He said no words or prayers, merely placed a hand on the shoulder of his best friend... his brother... and gripped tightly. Everything that needed to be said had been said already… _before_ they went into hiding.

He picked up the wand next to the body, turned from James, and left the room behind. With a jolt, his eyes locked onto the ceiling above the living room.

_Lily!_ _This fight took enough time for her to run. __She must have gotten away! __But… the wards… and the baby..._ _No! Please be alive! _

Sirius hastily climbed the stairs, back against the wall, eyes darting frantically into every visible corner of the house. He didn't want to see it. He didn't want to see it… but he had to know.

He reached the landing.

A solitary light shone from the farthest door in the hall. He couldn't yet see into the room, but he felt a cold breeze blowing down towards him.

_Maybe Lily took the baby and climbed out the window... yes... that could be it... a broom... surely she would have..._

Thoughts hammered through his skull at a million miles a minute. His own heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears. He could feel the blood pulsing quickly through the arteries in his neck and chest.

Sliding his back along the wall, he slowly crept all the way up to the door.

_Silence... _

_She surely ran..._

The sound of wind was whistling into the hall.

Sirius took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

_Three…_

_Two…_

_One…_

_Now!_

He spun into the room, firing several Auror-grade, wide-range stunners. When his eyes adjusted to the light, the first thing he noticed was that his spells kept right on going... and going, and going until they slammed into the side of Bathilda's chimney.

The entire back wall of the nursery was blown out.

The second thing he noticed was a complete lack of the gore and havoc he had witnessed downstairs. The carpet and walls, apart from the missing one, were pristine.

The third thing he noticed was a long, black cloak covering the prone form of a pale, balding man. He was lying face down on the carpet. There were three rather large stag horns sticking out of his legs and shoulders.

_Well done, James old boy. You and Lily did what thousands have failed to do. You brought the bastard down!_

Yet as soon as he spotted the other body in the room, half hidden behind the crib, the pride he felt for James and Lily vanished. Grief that could be compared only to what he felt downstairs surged through him.

_Lils... Oh Prongslette._

Her brilliant green eyes stared blankly up at him. Her full lips were slightly parted and a familiar green bruise rested upon her left cheek. Surprisingly, her expression contained neither the shock nor terror that were smeared across the faces of so very many victims of Voldemort's dreaded curse.

_No... she looks… tranquil._

Sirius bent down and dragged his fingertips over her eyelids, closing them forever.

_I should have been here. I should have died with you._

When he could bare to look at her no more, he turned to the crib and flicker of hope flared within his heart.

_Had the baby died first? If not…_

He stepped slowly towards the small wooden crib he himself had helped James build. And as he looked down into it... that little spark of hope died; snuffed out like a doused candle flame.

Blood was cascading from the child's head.

Sirius knees gave way and he fell to the floor once more, running his fingers through his hair in anguish.

_All gone. They're all gone._

Resting his head against the side of the crib, Sirius cried. He cried for James; cried for Lily; cried for every last man, woman, and child killed in this hellish war. He cried for himself, for he had lost his only family; a brother, a sister, and a godchild.

And then he cried for Harriet. She was innocent; helpless. Little Harry, murdered in her crib, would never know the joys of life.

He let the sobs wrack his body as grief hit him like a freight train. His cried echoed loudly in the quiet nursery.

Sirius couldn't have been sitting there for more than a few minutes, but it felt like days... years... _eons_. But, eventually, even though he was still wallowing in his misery, numbness filled him to the brim.

His breathing evened, his choking sobs slowed, and a fitting silence reigned over the small cottage.

_"Gurgle."_

Sirius jumped a foot in the air, hitting his head on the sharp end of the crib. Cursing and gripping his forehead in his hands, he stood and gazed once more into the crib.

_"Coogurglebb."_

Blood was still everywhere, all over the child, but a pair of bright green eyes stared back at him. The emerald orbs were moving, following his face as he swayed unsteadily over the small bed. Sirius beheld Harriet Lily Potter, alive and seemingly well... albeit lying in a pool of her own blood.

She was the spitting image of her mother: same green eyes, same little nose, same petite mouth… well, she had the trademark Potter hair. It was jet black and sticking up in every direction.

The last time he had seen her, she had been a tiny, fat, pink, hairless… _thing._ She had gurgled and grasped at his fingers as her father had held her for all to see. The second her miniature hand had closed around his pinky, he became completely smitten with that tiny ball of pudge .

The fact that she was lying here, frail, blood-spattered, parentless, looking exactly like Lily and James, and grasping once again for his pinky, shattered the last little bit of his already broken heart.

Picking up a nappie cloth from the bag beside the crib, he gently wiped the blood from her beautiful little face.

When he saw it, he almost screamed.

A jagged cut, the shape of a lightning bolt, was carved into the left side of her forehead, oozing a fresh coat of blood into her eye. Had it been a normal cut, he wouldn't have been so shocked. However... _it wasn't_. The skin around the wound was tinged a vivid shade of green; the same green as her eyes; the same green that rested upon Lily's cheek.

Having served as both an Auror and Unspeakable, he knew the true nature of the Killing curse. It was the energy of the spell that killed, not the direct hit. A killing curse that contacted skin would leave a green bruise on the body for days, whereas a hit on one's hair or clothing would still kill, but wouldn't leave a mark.

For this little girl to have a bruise and still be alive...

_No. That's impossible. How is that possible?_

Sirius switched his gaze back and forth with incredulity between mother, daughter, and the cloaked man that lay at his feet.

_No... that's... absolutely impossible!_

The little girl in the crib let go of his pinky and lay back on the coverlet of her crib, waving her feet in the air, gurgling happily. The blood from her cut was slowly clotting. It was a rather deep wound and would surely be a horrible scar, even if a healer could get to it right away.

He noticed that she was cuddling something beneath the blanket. Reaching down, he pulled the cloth away.

Sirius choked on what was both a sob of misery and a bark of laughter.

It was the miniature plush broomstick that he had bought for her at the small store in St Mungo's. It looked thoroughly chewed on.

Sighing sadly, he picked Harry up and cradled her in one arm. To his dismay, she gurgled in protest and began to cry.

_Hmmm... aha!_

Grabbing the chewed-up broomstick, he dangled it in front of her.

The crying slowed. A pudgy little arm reached for the stuffed toy and he let her hand close around the handle. The tattered twigs of the plushie promptly found themselves in her mouth.

As he rocked her slowly, she let out a tiny yawn and fell asleep in his arms.

"_Oh Harry_... I'm so sorry. You'll... You'll stay with me now." He brushed his thumb across her cheek and her head turned into his touch. "W-When you're older, I'll tell you all about them."

Bending down, he picked up Lily's wand, shot the most powerful stunner he could muster into the obviously dead body of Lord Voldemort, and left the nursery behind. Through the hallway windows, he could see lights moving outside the house.

_They must be setting up the perimeter._ _Took them bloody well long enough._

Sirrius walked down the steps and out through the front door. Several things happened all at once. Shouts from every corner of the yard echoed against the house. Shadows flanked him. Impediment jinxes flew from every direction.

_Standard aftermath procedure after a Dark Mark site becomes secured. Freeze anyone not in a hood and mask. Cutters, stunners, and bone breakers for everyone else. Get on with it, you lot._

"IT'S JUST BLACK! STAND DOWN!" Dawlish strode forward and unfroze him, letting his wand linger. "Sirius, you brewed me a love potion in our fourth year. To whom did I administer said potion?"

On any other day, Sirius would have grinned. But today, on this horrible night... he found that he could not. "My snotty cousin," he wheezed in a tired voice. "Narcissa Black."

Dawlish relaxed, looking him up and down before asking wearily, "What are you doing here? I thought you were stationed at Hogwarts."

"I felt the wards fall. I'm keyed in."

Dawlish gave him an apprehensive glance, "James? Lily?"

Sirius shook his head.

Dawlish looked down at the sleeping girl in Sirius' arms. "You got here in time to drive them off then?"

"No."

"What? What do you mean 'no?' How is the child alive?"

"I didn't… I didn't get here in time. Voldemort himself did the job."

At this, Dawlish and the ten other Aurors in his brigade stormed into action, racing for the house, forming shields and flanking positions.

Sirius called out, "There's no need. He's gone."

Dawlish stared at him dubiously. "Gone? He just left without killing the daughter? He was hell bent on killing the Potters... Merlin knows why."

Sirius gestured absentmindedly, his eyes returning to the scar on Harry's forehead. "No, Dawlish. Gone. Dead. Upstairs, third door on the right."

Dawlish spluttered incoherently while his thoughts seemed to be attempting to form rational patterns. "But... But Black, how can he be… if you got here too late? Did James and Lily wound him?"

Sirius considered the child in his arms before he spoke. "Well, James managed to puncture flesh... but nothing that seemed fatal. Lily… I couldn't tell you. It almost looks like she went quietly in the nursery. Dawlish, this might sound crazy, but I think _she_ did it."

Dawlish looked at him strangely and asked, "Who? Lily?"

"No... _Harry._ Dawlish, look at the bruise around the cut. It's a curse scar. I'm sure of it."

Dawlish was a smart man; not a powerful man, but definitely a smart one. You had to be vaguely intelligent to become an Auror Captain. What Sirius was trying to convey was not lost on him. "Black, what you're suggesting here is absolutely impossible. No one _survives_ it! It can't be done. The spell is literally death; death in corporeal form. It can't be stopped; it _won't_ stop until the wizard's energy from the spell dissipates or it absorbs enough life. It even kills those little germs floating in the air that the muggles are so fond of. You're actually telling me that You-know-who's Avada Kedavra bounced off the forehead of a girl in diapers and hit him instead?"

"Yes. I actually think I am," he said slowly, trying to convince himself as well. "Maybe this was it; the prophecy! Maybe it said she could end him. I knew he was after them due to a prophecy... but I was never told what it said." Pacing back and forth with Harry in his arms, Sirius tried to make sense of it all. "What I _really_ want to know is how the Fidelius broke in the first place. The keeper was _totally_ secure."

Dawlish offered no reply to his muttered questions. The man was looking nervously at the house. "Black, are you sure he's dead? There isn't some kind of a trap waiting for us up there? Because if he's gone… well, if he's gone, we can… we can all be free from this war. It means we've won!"

"We didn't win, Dawlish," spat Sirius venomously as a surge of anger coursed through his body. "And if that monster isn't dead, then he's sure as hell in a coma after the stunner I…" Sirius trailed off as he spotted a shadowy figure skittering around the corner a few streets down.

"Oi, Sirius!" Hagrid came barreling down the road as fast as a broomstick could fly. "Dumbledore is ou'side the Apparition wards tryin to take em down. He told me to come and find yeh. Not let yeh out of me sight he says."

Sirius was paying little attention to Hagrid, however. His eyes were fixated on the corner.

_Oh no... Please, tell me you didn't. _

When his attention snapped back to the present situation, he realized he would not be able to do anything with Harry still in his arms. "Hagrid, Harry survived. I need you to take her to Dumbledore. Use my bike. Dawlish can fix it for you. I'll be back." Sirius shrugged off the sleeping child into one of Hagrid's enormous arms and ran off toward the street down which he had seen the shadow disappear.

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Hagrid stared down at the sleeping girl in amazement.

"Survived? But... how?" he asked confusedly.

The black-haired man turned and darted away from him.

"Wait! Sirius, come back!"

But the Auror had already sprinted around the street corner at full speed and, with the girl in his arms, Hagrid could do nothing but let Sirius run.

Dawlish barked orders to his brigade about clean-up and containment. "Abbot, McMillan, go after Black. He must've been on to something."

The two fittest Aurors of the bunch went jogging off in the direction Sirius had taken.

"They'll watch him, Hagrid," said Dawlish, repairing the bike with a flick of his wand. "Well, best get on your way. You can reassure Dumbledore that Black is covered. I imagine the Headmaster thinks he might do something rash."

"Aye," agreed Hagrid, sighing heavily. "Tha' I should."

Hagrid straddled the bike and the seat magically expanded to fit his large size. He shifted the small girl from one arm to the other so he could fit her properly in the sidecar. As he pulled away, her tiny hand tried to wrap around one of his fingers. However, when she could not properly grasp his massive digits, she grunted unhappily and her bright emerald eyes flew open. She stared at him unrelentingly, as if he had done her some great personal wrong.

As he stared intently back into those big green orbs, a small plush broomstick made its way into the girl's mouth.

Hagrid threw back his head and let out a great bark of laughter.

Harry withdrew the broomstick from her mouth, smiled a wide three toothed smile, wiggled her feet, and gurgled.

Hagrid found her smile to be infectious. Grinning at her, he said gently, "Hullo, `Arry... or should I say Lily? I'm Hagrid."

She blew a raspberry and squawked happily as the bike lifted off the ground.

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Sirius threw himself down an alley, chasing after the short man that had just dodged into it. He was running as fast as he could and was gaining on his prey, for his legs were long and he was quite fit. However, the man running from him was quite a different story. Even though his slightly pudgy friend could still run bloody fast, the fear of being caught likely pushing his adrenaline levels to their limit, Sirius could tell that he was losing his energy.

And yet... the rat kept running, no doubt searching for a safe place to collapse. That was always the case back at school. Whenever they were about to get caught performing some late night prank, the boy would always be the first one back to the common room, yet he would be too exhausted to climb the stairs to their dorm.

Sirius thanked his lucky stars that Voldemort had laced anti-animagus wards into the anti-apparition barrier. It was both a stag trap... and a rat trap. His prey surely would have gotten away long since had this not been the case.

Sirius screamed furiously at the man in front of him, accentuating his screams with stunners and bone-breakers. "GIVE IT UP, PETER! YOU CAN'T GET ESCAPE WHILE THE WARDS ARE UP! IT'S AT LEAST FORTY KILOMETERS TO THE BARRIER'S EDGE. SLOW DOWN, MY FRIEND! I JUST... WANT... TO... TALK!"

Peter yelled nothing back, just dodged into alley after alley, using his magic to thrust debris into Sirius' path and block the oncoming spells.

Peter, somewhat like Dawlish, didn't have the power to throw high powered stunners and curses around like baseballs. He had to rely on shield charms, conjuring, hexes, and his own resourcefulness. Peter was the type of duelist that would notice that you were dodging most of the spells that he sent towards you, so he would freeze the floor with a household freezing charm, throw a mass of nonverbal jelly-leg jinxes that you couldn't distinguish from stunners, and then conjure ropes to bind you after you had slipped on the ice while trying to dodge. He didn't need to overpower you. He was just more aware of his surroundings than other people were. Just like a rat, Peter had a strong survival drive that always gave him the edge. Of all the Marauders, only Remus, with his vast knowledge of spells, could best him consistently.

But tonight, of _all_ nights, Peter wasn't going to best him or use a bit of cunning to slip from his fingers, for Sirius was driven by the rage and grief of a betrayal.

They rounded the edge of a building and came out into a large, empty, suburban street.

"PETER! I. SAID. SLOW. DOWN!" Four bone breakers left his wand. The first two were wide by a foot or so and went sailing into a red tank that sat propped against the nearest house.

But the second two...

The second two hit home.

Peter screamed in agony as his wrist and shin shattered. Tripping over his feet, he dropped his wand, landed flat on his face, and rolled nastily across the hard concrete.

Before Peter could recover, Sirius caught up with him. He stomped down on the black-ash wand the smaller man was scrambling for and was rewarded with a sharp _CRACK_.

Peter moaned in despair.

Smiling in satisfaction, Sirius pulled back his leg and with an angry grunt, kicked Peter in the stomach. He kicked out again and again, breaking down in anguished sobs as he did so.

Peter curled into a ball, trying to shield himself from the blows. Eventually, he was able to grab onto a leg and hold it in place to his chest.

Losing his footing, Sirius fell on top of the smaller man with a _thwump_. They struggled, but he managed to free his arm. Pulling it back, he punched Peter in the jaw as hard as he could and felt two of his fingers break. Peter groaned and cowered beneath him. Ignoring the pain, Sirius pulled back his fist and slugged the little rat again.

Sirius was about to let loose the next strike, when he heard the man's quivering voice say, "Padfoot… _please._"

He grasped Peter's collar and screamed venomously, "PLEASE? _PLEASE?_ WE ALL SPENT A YEAR LOCKED UP JUST SO YOU COULD MAKE THE _WRONG_ CHOICE! YOU DON'T GET A SECOND CHANCE YOU SLIMY LITTLE BASTARD!"

Sirius pressed on Peter's windpipe and the small man's face started to swell and turn blue.

"Prongs… *_gasp* …_wouldn't-"

Sirius roared, dragged Peter upwards, and slammed him into the nearest lamppost. "YOU DON'T EVER GET TO SAY THAT NAME AGAIN! YOU LOST YOUR GODDAMNED RIGHT! YOU'RE NOT WORMTAIL! YOU'RE A BLOODY _DEATH EATER._ YOU DESERVE WHAT YOU DEAL OUT! _TRAITOR!_

Sirius screamed that last word as loud as he could. Lights flickered on in many of the nearby houses, but he blatantly ignored them and threw Peter down to the ground. Sirius collapsed next to his once friend, wiping the sweat and tears from his own cheeks.

Peter grunted softly as he arranged his broken body into a position in which he would feel the least amount of pain.

_"Why?"_ Sirius asked with sob.

Peter looked at him contemplatively, but said nothing.

"WHY?" he screamed. "How... How could you do it?"

Peter remained silent.

"How could you do it to James? To me? We treated you like a brother the second you stood up next to us when Malfoy called you a Mudblood on the train. How could you do it to Lily? The one person who would listen to your problems because she knew _exactly_ what it was like? To Remus? The man taught you everything you know about magic. We both know you're dyslexic and can't read a textbook to save your damned life. He spent _months_ sitting with you in the common room, dictating descriptions of spell after spell; potion after potion. His kindness and patience is the reason you're not the equivalent of a squib! How could you do it to Harry? You're her uncle! Not in blood but by bond. You killed your own brother, your own sister! You betrayed us all and you deserve to _burn_!"

Gazing at him demurely, Peter whispered, "Yes... _I do_." He let out a small, dry chuckle and continued. "I never told you that the hat wanted to put me in Ravenclaw first, did I? It saw my desire to learn; to succeed in this world of magic. Yet it also saw my disorder. I would never be welcomed in Rowena's house. Don't you remember how long it took the Hat to decide? I had traits that three of the four houses prized, yet the Hat could not decide for me. Finally it asked me where I'd _like_ to go. I saw you sitting at the Gryffindor table; I saw James behind me in line and I knew he would be sitting there soon."

Peter shot him a sad smile. "So, I asked the hat to put me there as well. It yelled 'Gyrffindor'… even when I didn't have an ounce of bravery in my body. I knew I had no place there, but I chose to stay. You know the story after that. We all became _great_ friends. You know, I had even convinced myself that you were my real friends, not just protectors and benefactors."

"We _were_ your friends, Peter! We always were!"

Peter ignored him. "When you asked me to be the secret-keeper instead of yourself, I was so incredibly honored. Imagine that for once, the three _great_ Marauders needed the fourth for more than just an extra body on prank quests. So, I took that honor and held it to the best of my ability. I hid in the Shack. I was going to wait out the war; sit and wait until Dumbledore finished him off for good. But he found me... well, _Snape_ found me really. He and the Dark Lord were looking for ways into the school. Snape remembered the Shack and he noticed my rat form as I slept."

Peter shivered. "Snape summoned the Dark Lord. God... Sirius, he's terrifying. He _ripped_ the knowledge of the Fidelius from my mind, yet he could only learn James and Lily's exact location if I told him willingly. They tortured me for hours and hours. I knew I would die if I didn't give them what they wanted and when the time came to either speak or die... I gave in. The Fidelius broke and I knew James, Lily, and Harry would be dead within the hour. I am... I am glad the girl survived... and I am _quite_ glad he is gone."

Sirius growled at him.

Peter winced and continued. "At that moment, I knew that I deserved to die. I'm a weak man, Sirius. I cared not for my friends in that moment. I cared only about the pain inflicted upon my body. I cared only about continuing to live my meager existence. It was _always_ about me surviving. I chose Gryffindor that day because I wanted to be safe from thugs like Malfoy and his band of goons. But I'm _not_ a Gryffindor. I'm _not_ a brave man, Sirius. I couldn't be brave enough to face my death. I don't belong in any one of the houses. I am not worthy of the magic I own. The only reason I appeared here tonight was to make sure Voldemort would not come after _me_ had the Potters not been there."

Monologue over, Peter gazed hollowly at him.

Sirius raked his eyes over the bloody man and whispered fiercely, "Y_ou should have died!_ Had it been _you_ in their place... I would've... we would've... well, I think you should know that for a short time on this earth _Peter_, there were four people that would have risked their lives to save your own."

He stood slowly and cast his gaze up and down the narrow street, searching for backup. Everywhere he looked, Muggles were crowding at their living room windows, peering out into the night. He supposed that, to their eyes, two strangely-dressed men openly brawling in the middle of the street would have seemed quite odd. Hopefully, they could pass as a pair of quarreling vagrants.

"You know," said Peter finally, "that sounded much like something you would say at my eulogy, Sirius."

Anger flaring, Sirius bent down and pushed the wand tip into Peter's throat. "I should do it_, you little rat!_"

Peter nodded. "You should. Although, I don't want you to. All I live for is the ability to live. But maybe... maybe I wouldn't feel so scared if it was _you_ that did it."

Sirius' eyes hardened. "The ability to live? Spoken like a true _Death Eater_, Peter."

"Then do it. Kill me. I'm a man that kills to survive and I'm going to keep right on doing it. I will keep destroying families and lives if I must." Peter spat blood from his mouth onto the concrete. "I am ready. Are you?"

_He killed James. He killed Lily. He killed our family. He as good as killed himself. But..._

Moving closer, Sirius leaned down and whispered into Peter's ear, _"I would never."_

"Then we're at an impasse."

"No. You have two choices. One: stay here under my wand tip and wait for the Aurors, who are sure to be closing in on us. You will be taken to a Ministry holding cell, await trial, be tried as a willing accomplice to murder, and receive a minimum sentence of forty years. Two: I let you leave. Completely walk away. You leave the country. In two weeks without James and Lily, I will change my mind, hunt you down, and you'll go through step one anyway. In that time on the run... you might be able to find some peace of mind."

"Those don't sound like very good options to me, Sirius."

"The deepest circles of hell, Peter, are reserved for those that betray their family. The Aurors are coming. I can see their wands. Your options are already severely limited."

"But what about choice three, Sirius? I like my chances with choice three _much_ better." His grey eyes narrowed, and then he grimaced. " The wards fell. You knew I was stalling. You should have killed me, Sirius, and I'm sorry for this."

Before Sirius could even think to cast a spell, Peter hurled one of the broken pieces of his wand at the red tank several feet behind them.

Nothing happened.

He looked back at Peter who was glaring at him, face full of anger, blood dripping down his hand. The Aurors chose that exact moment to apparate to Sirius' side.

"JAMES! LILY! SIRIUS, HOW COULD YOU?"

Realizing what Peter was doing, he raised his wand. His lips opened. His wand tip flicked upward to form the rudimentary stunner... and the world itself exploded around him. It was if he was the conductor and the destruction of the entire street was his symphony's opening chord. Knocked off his feet, he landed on his back with his ears and temples pounding from the blast.

Sirius groaned and tried to piece together what had just happened.

_He was... he was waiting for enough gas to rise out of that tank you smashed! His wand core is Firecrab tail, he was waiting for the wards to fall, and waiting for witnesses. He framed you. He played you. A repeat performance of your schoolyard duels. You slipped on his household freezing charm, and he bound you tight with ropes._

_Rat: one. __Dog: zero._

Even with his entire life crashing down around him, even with the wands he felt pressing into the nape of his neck, Sirius threw back his head and laughed uproariously. Peter Pettigrew had just pulled the greatest prank in the history of the Marauders. It was really too bad that only he and Peter were in on the joke.

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**Just like every other author here, I want feedback. So review! Any and all opinions are welcome. I actually read and consider them.**

**If you bail on the fic, leave me a review and tell me why. Criticism helps make the story better.**

**Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page i.e. my ****Homepage****. Contains some NSFW content for your viewing pleasure.**

Harry, Harrie, and Harri are all nicknames for Harriet. I went for Harry so the character would have the same feel. It will be weird for a few chapters to be sure.


	2. Chapter 1: The Zoo

SG's Fun-filled and Somewhat Story Related Fact: An adult male manufactures over 100 million sperm cells per day!

Interpretation: There is a 1 in 100 million chance that your father will produce your sperm cell today. If you do not reach an egg within that day, you are promptly reconverted into protein. The chance that "your" sperm could be the first to reach an egg twice is so infinitely small that it is simply easier to round off to 0. Thus, given the short span of human lives, the combinatorial nature of human reproduction, the number of times humans are _actually_ engaged in sexual activity, and genes that recombine and change fluidly, there is logically only **ONE** moment in the grand scheme of time that _you, _exactly as you are_,_ could ever be conceived.

Mind-Bottling!

So just to be clear. A female Harry Potter in an HG fic means femmeslash (Slash pairings becoming het, het becoming femmeslash) It will begin as the closest of friends and become something more. I'm pretty open to all ships as long as there's no incest.

**About Harry:** She was raised the same, treated the same, and had similar experiences to canonHarry. Ask yourself, will she _be_ the same? Maybe.

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**betad by Baby-Summer-Gurl**

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**Chapter 1: The Zoo**

"_There was a sound of thunder."_

_-Ray Bradbudy_

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_**It all comes back to a juice box.**_

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THUMP.

She sat upright in bed so quickly, that her habitual ducking motion was forgotten. With a heavy clunk, her forehead slammed against the coat rail that lay two feet above her crib-sized mattress. "Bol… Bollocks," she moaned quietly, rubbing away the tears that welled in the corners of her eyes.

Dudley cackled as soon as he heard the telltale clunk accompanied by her moan. She heard his heavy footfalls clomp down the stairs and into the kitchen where he would consume his morning feast.

Clutching her aching head, Harriet Potter... Harry... sank backwards into her grimy bedding and pulled her knees to her chest.

She glared bitterly at the coat rail as she waited for the stars to clear from her eyes.

Dudley and the coat rail. The coat rail and Dudley. The two were incomplete without the other. And together they were the bane of her existence. There were many banes to her existence in the Dursley household, but Dudley and the coat rail... well, if she were to be found dead one morning in her cupboard, they would surely be the ones to blame. Dudley had taken a serious liking to waking up before she did just so he could creep to the ninth stair from the bottom floor, jump, and crash with all his weight on the fifth.

It was terribly loud, shook the whole house, and made her cupboard creek and groan. Thus, her forehead was intimately acquainted with the coat rail. She knew that one day soon, Whaleboy would leap from that ninth step, crash through the stairs, and break something valuable. Harry would of course be blamed and made to fix everything. Perhaps the coat rail, in a final showing of repentance, would impale her as Dudley fell and thus spare her from her fate.

Brushing a small spider away from her ear, Harry gazed around at her cupboard in the faint light. She had truly loved it when she was younger. It had been her very own special place. It had been her palace tower; her cave of mischief and wonder; her impenetrable fortress against the forces of Dudley.

But... it was _so_ small.

Harry had a feeling that she'd never get very big, but when even _she_ could no longer straighten out as she used to, with Dudley tormenting her every morning, she came to see that this cupboard wasn't a special place at all.

It was where the Dursleys had _hidden_ her; out of sight and out of mind.

She had never questioned before. She had never questioned why Dudley had two large rooms, while she had only sixteen square feet. She had never questioned why Dudley was smothered in hugs, kisses, and comfort, while she had been pushed roughly away every time she had tried to latch onto her aunt's hand. She had never questioned why Uncle Vernon chuckled every time she had burnt her hand on the stove. She had never questioned why Dudley threw bits of pebble at her when she was on the monkey bars at recess, or why he punched anyone that talked to her.

A few years ago, one boy in her class had offered her his juice box, as he had seen that she only had some toast for lunch. Dudley had seen and had dragged the boy out behind the school to 'set him straight.'

Piers had never been kind to her again.

Harry had never questioned why her hurts had gone unhealed; why she had to wear ragged cut-offs of Aunt Petunia's old nighties; why her knickers were done up with safety pins to keep them to her thin waist; why the only family she had didn't… _want her._

But now? She knew now. She wasn't theirs. Her parents, according to her Aunt, had been drifters; bums. When they died, drunk in a car crash, her Aunt and Uncle had taken her in, but... she wasn't_ theirs_.

Harry turned and buried her throbbing forehead into the mess of towels and pincushions that she called her pillow. She had been having such a good dream. She tried to remember it fully, desperately clinging to it as her mind became active and ready for the day. There had been a man with a beard who had looked down at her with such warmth. She had tried to grasp his large hand as it tickled her stomach, but found she could not quite hold it. The man had let out a huge laugh and said… well she couldn't remember now. Just like the man's hand, her good dreams were always things she couldn't hold onto.

Harry sighed heavily and sat up, rubbing at her eyes. Opening the grill in her cupboard door, she glanced briefly at the pin-up calendar that hung across the hall.

July 20th.

It took several moments for her sleep ridden mind to realize why that date seemed important.

_Oh bloody hell, it's Dudley's-_

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DIDDYKIMS!" squealed Aunt Petunia shrilly.

Harry heard several noises that resembled the sound of a suction cup releasing violently; Diddykims' eleven birthday kisses she presumed. Getting up, she pushed open the small wooden door and made her way around and up the stairs to Aunt Petunia's bathroom. She turned on the light and closed the door behind her, preparing to wash up.

Aunt Petunia hated it when Harry used her bath. Ever since she could wash herself alone, she had been made to stand over the sink and use a small spunge to scrub away at her skin. She gazed longingly at the bathtub. Harry had had several opportunities to use it when Aunt Petunia headed out to the market while Dudley and Vernon were waddling around in the backyard, attempting to play sports. Whenever she was lucky enough for this to occur, she would rush up here to the bathroom, lock the door, and run a steaming hot bath. She always had the time of her life; splashing around, making castles from soap, and _really _washing her hair instead of using a soapy comb.

Without looking at her reflection, Harry scrubbed and dried quickly. Going to the bathroom pantry, she pulled out the one piece of clothing that was hers and fit. It was a simple summer dress; snow white with black, velvety lace around the waist. When Aunt Marge had gotten it for her last year, the first time Harry had ever met her, Uncle Vernon had pulled his sister aside to whisper heatedly in her ear. Harry had only caught a few words along the lines of "give an inch" and "takes a mile." Suffice to say, Marge was especially chilly toward her after the conversation. Thankfully, the Dursleys had let her keep it so as to not insult Marge and Harry had cared for the dress like she would a child. She personally hand-washed it, bleached it, and starched the collar. It was bit itchy at the waist, but..._ it was hers and it fit_.

Looking to the mirror for a quick once-over before she left the bathroom, Harry froze in her tracks.

_OH NO!_

She ran to the mirror and leaned onto the sink, running a hand through her long, black locks in disbelief.

_My hair... it grew back! Aunt Petunia... She's... She's going to kill me!_

Her aunt had just yesterday cut Harry's hair into a bob that didn't even fall below her chin. Harry had absolutely hated it; it made her hair stick up all over the place. At least when it was long it attempted to lay flat... _well_... flattish.

_Maybe if I tie it back she won't notice._

She attempted to lift it into a messy bun, but several shorter strands fell into her face and over her eyes. No matter what Harry did, she couldn't get them to stay up.

Giving up the futile battle, she sighed resignedly and left the bathroom.

_Bring on the punishment. I bet I'll have to weed her weedless garden._

Groaning, Harry marched back downstairs and into the kitchen. The mound of presents in front of her reached all the way to the ceiling. Dudley sat next to it, his blubber falling over the edges of his chair. Already, her cousin had unwrapped roller skates, video games, a bicycle, a computer, squirt guns, cap guns, and every other thing a boy of eleven could possibly want... and he wasn't even halfway through the pile.

As Uncle Vernon pranced around nearby with a camera, Harry stealthily crept to the stove to put on the Kippurs and eggs. Thankfully, Aunt Petunia was much too occupied fussing over Dudley to notice the state of her hair.

"So, Dudders, where would you like to go today?" asked Uncle Vernon jauntily as he danced about, clicking the camera furiously.

Dudley thought... and it looked like he was in pain as he did so. "The Zoo! I want to see whales!"

Harry smirked at the bacon.

_You don't need to go to the Zoo for that, Diddykims. _

Her uncle clapped Dudley loudly on the back and chortled, "The Zoo it is. Why don't you call up Piers and Malcolm and see if they want to join us?"

Harry grimaced as Dudley waddled over to the phone.

_Piers and Malcolm;_ Dudley's lackeys. Malcolm was the brawn; dumb as a stump... but he was even larger than Dudley. He would grab her hair and arms as Dudley hit her. Piers was the brains; what he lacked in size he made up for with his sharp tongue. Ever since the 'Juice Box Incident,' he had followed Dudley around like a lapdog, partially out of fear, but mostly because he had few friends. Piers would taunt her, Malcolm would hold her, and Dudley would hit her. If bullying was a sport, they would surely be on the English Olympic team.

"Malcolm says he's right sick, but Piers will come." Dudley sat back down and started shoveling his eggs into his mouth as quickly as a human being possibly could; eggs that Harry had just taken off the stove. The satisfying squeal when they burned his tongue made her grin.

"I can't take her today, Vernon," said Aunt Petunia, nodding vaguely in Harry's direction. "I'm going to Garden Club and I absolutely won't have her and her... unnaturalness-"

Harry missed this next bit because her thoughts were whirling.

_Good. I don't want to be there. Bunch of gossipy ladies talking about everything except gardening. At least I can play with Mrs. Figg's cats today. _

Even though Mrs. Figg was a barmy old woman, she did have a multitude of cats, whose company Harry had come to love. She loved anything that would sit still long enough to let her hold it... or at least not run from her in fear like her schoolmates.

"Ah well, I'll call up Figg then."

Uncle Vernon moved to the phone, but Petunia stopped him short. "Arabella is in the hospital, Vernon. Poor dear tripped on a cat and fell down the stairs."

_Damn. Well, I hope she's alright. Bet it was Snowball._

"Well... what about your friend?" asked Uncle Vernon slowly, sporting the same pained expression Dudley adopted whenever he used his brain. "Yvonne?"

Petunia shook her head. "No... No, she's in Majorca for the holiday."

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia shared a look and then glanced at Harry. Petunia spluttered in anger at the sight of her hair, but said nothing in the tense silence. Dudley suddenly stopped shoveling Kippurs into his mouth and looked up at his mother pleadingly. Both he and Harry spoke as one.

"I don't want her to go!" Dudley whined.

"I don't want to go!" exclaimed Harry vehemently.

_I hate Piers._

Uncle Vernon glared at her before turning to his son. "Dudley, we can't leave her alone in the house. If you're a good boy and don't make a fuss, I'll buy you two more presents while we're out!"

Dudley, after considering this, looked up at his father and said, "Three."

And so, an hour later, after receiving a sound warning from Uncle Vernon to 'not ruin the day for Dudley with any of her mischief,' Harry found herself standing in a cool, underground room, surrounded on all sides by glass tanks full of water, glaring longingly at Piers and her cousin as they demolished a pair of extravagant ice-cream sundaes.

In an effort to not appear stingy in front of Mr. Polkiss, Uncle Vernon had bought Harry a cheap lemon pop.

She was, of course, allergic to lemons.

When Harry could take no more of the torture, she sauntered off to observe the tanks.

As she leaned against the glass wall, a large dolphin sailed right behind her head. Upon closer inspection, Harry realized that the tanks were full of them. They were _so_ beautiful. Round and round in circles they swam. It was mesmerizing. They seemed so carefree.

Dudley and Piers, having finished their snack, began to run from tank to tank, making faces at the dolphins, banging on the glass, and just being generally obnoxious. Despite the many angry murmurs from the other guests, Uncle Vernon and Mr. Polkiss paid their sons no attention as they sat talking about drills.

Ignoring it all, Harry closed her eyes and pictured herself swimming with the majestic creatures. She envied them. Although they were captives, she was positive that the dolphins didn't have coat rails to dodge when _they_ woke up every morning.

"Budge over!" cried a familiar voice in her ear.

Harry felt an elbow slam into her ribs. She fell, glasses flying from her face, and skidded across the rough carpet.

When she came to a halt, she slowly pushed herself to her knees and glared defiantly at the blurry forms of Dudley and his blonde lackey, daring them to get close enough to kick. "What was _that_ for, Dudley? I wasn't doing _anything_ to you! L-Look what you did!"

Harry's arm sported a bloodied raspberry.

Without supplying an answer, Dudley quickly ran off, cackling at her misfortune.

Tearing a little at both the stinging sensation and the sight of blood dripping onto her bright, white dress, she got up. She was about to chase her cousin down to knee him in the bits as hard as she could, when Piers held out his hand.

To Harry's astonishment, clasped in the boy's fingers... were her glasses. He had picked them up and surprisingly, had yet to crush them. It looked like he wanted to do… or _say_… something, but he merely stared at her, blue eyes glued to her own.

The silence between them began to stretch.

Realizing the awkwardness of this particular situation, Harry tentatively took her glasses, shoved them roughly back onto her nose, muttered a polite, "Th-Thank you," and cast her gaze to the floor, her hair falling out of her bun as she did so.

Piers grinned nervously and shuffled his feet. "You're... You're welcome... Harry."

Her eyes widened.

_Not Hairy Harry? Or Potty?_

She hadn't heard him say her name with kindness in years... not since...

After seemingly having tired from taunting the dolphin he had been chasing all over the room, Dudley made his return. He had apparently missed the entire exchange. Her cousin threw an arm around Piers' shoulder and said cruelly, "That's what you get for getting in my way, orphan. Right, Piers?"

At Dudley's words, Piers' familiar, taunting smirk slid back onto his face. The blonde boy laughed heartlessly and turned his back on her.

Harry went very cold. She realized, quite suddenly, that she had to get out of this room; had to be somewhere... _anywhere_... that Piers wasn't.

_Now. _

She ran for the exit.

"GIRL! GET BACK HERE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, but Harry was already flying out the door. She ran to the next building over, wrenched open the door, and careened inside.

_I hate Piers._

Down the hall she sprinted, turning whenever she could. She must've passed at least a hundred glass tanks before finally slowing to sit and catch her breath.

_I hate Piers. I HATE him._

Harry leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, enjoying the brief respite she had from her cousin and his friend. It was wonderfully cool in this building as well; almost dank. She distinctly heard a soft, tinkling humming all around her. It sounded very much like elevator music and for whatever reason, Harry found it extremely soothing.

_They must be playing it on the stereo._

After her breathing had slowed to its normal pace, Harry slowly pushed herself to her feet and peered into the nearest tank. It resembled a flourishing jungle setting. With her nose pressed against the warm glass, she searched for the animal it held... but, unsurprisingly, it eluded her.

"Yeah," she muttered under her breath. "I'd hide too if I was on display all day."

Dudley and Piers came around the corner and shouted when they saw her. Uncle Vernon was right behind them, wheezing slightly. He said nothing in the presence of so many onlookers, but his purple face, along with the death glare he was sending her, promised an extremely long stay in the cupboard... _without_ meals.

Harry glared fiercely at Dudley and Piers as they banged on the seemingly empty tank. "Stop it, you stupid buggers! How would you like it if _you_ were the one in the tank?"

They both flipped her the bird before running off to find something more interesting to taunt. Turning back to the jungle tank, Harry was surprised to find two large eyes, not four inches away from her face, staring right back at her through the glass.

It was a snake; a threatening, black, extraordinarily large snake.

Its eyes bored into her, drawing her closer.

And then... it winked_._

Harry started in surprise and quickly cast her gaze around the hallway to see if anyone was watching.

They weren't.

She looked back at the snake and winked, too.

The snake jerked its head towards Dudley and Piers, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly: _"I get that all the time."_

"I know," she murmured through the glass, though she wasn't sure the snake could hear her. "It must be really annoying."

Her eyes widened as the snake nodded vigorously.

"So... where do you come from?" she asked slowly, not quite believing that she was actually having a conversation with an animal.

The snake jabbed its tail at the wall beside the glass. There were a few signs of varying sizes. One read: Boa Constrictor, Hog Island, while another read: Boa Imperator, Peru.

The largest sign, which happened to be the one the snake was pointing at, read: Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

Harry sighed longingly. "I bet it was _really_ nice there, yeah?"

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and she read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo.

"Oh, I see... so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout from behind Harry that could have only been Piers, made the both of them jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T _BELIEVE_ WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling towards them as fast as he could. "Out of the way, you," he said, elbowing her yet again in her already elbowed ribs.

Harry flew sideways and slammed into the wall.

What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened; one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

She sat up and gasped; the glass in front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out and on to the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exists.

As the boa slid swiftly past her, Harry could have sworn a low hissing voice said, "_Brazil, here I come… Thankss, Chica."_

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock as he examined the tank. "But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

By the time they were all back in the car, Dudley was telling them how the snake had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down long enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?"

The car went silent. Uncle Vernon stared back at her through the rear view mirror, a look of suspicion and growing anger on his face. Piers leaned over to her and said quietly, "You _were_ talking to it, weren't you? I saw you."

Harry offered no reply.

"Harry?"

Rolling her eyes, she turned and was met by his startlingly bright blue gaze. "What?"

"Did you make the glass vanish?" asked Piers tentatively.

Wondering that herself, Harry shrugged and whispered, "So what if I did?"

Piers gulped nervously. "Do you… Do you maybe want to come over sometime… and you… you could teach _me_ how?"

Harry thought about this. She thought about Piers; thought about how nice it was when he offered her his juice box; thought about the look he gave her this afternoon when she lost her glasses; thought about the kindness she had seen in his twinkling blue eyes; thought about his cold smirk whenever Dudley appeared; thought about his taunts; thought about every horrible thing he had ever said to her. Piers had been so cruel. He had participated avidly in Dudley's 'Harry Hunting' game, even if it _had_ been out of fear.

Peering into his eyes, she shook her head… no.

Piers' face fell. He seemed hurt... _deeply_. Somewhere in those blue eyes, a tiny light flicked out.

Harry instantly wanted to change her mind, but before she could find the right words to say, Piers spoke, his voice laced with venom. "Fine. Be a freaky little orphan on your own."

Harry closed her mouth and let her loose strands of hair fall into her eyes. For the first time, after all this time, she knew without a doubt that Piers Polkiss had _meant_ that one. Leaning her head against the window, she listened to the motor whir as they drove on through the city.

Uncle Vernon had waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting in on her. He was so angry he could barely speak. He managed five words, "Go... cupboard... stay... no meals," before he collapsed into a chair and Aunt Petunia had to run to get him a rather generous glass of Brandy.

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_**Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page. Contains some NSFW content.**_

_**Review! Feedback is wonderful even though I update regardless.**_

_Stay Tuned. Next chapter in a day or two. I do read reviews and get around to answering them. Tell me what you think of the chapter and the fanart._


	3. Chapter 2: The Seventh Month Dies

**Check out my Homepage for art of Harry and the rest of the gang.**

So here we are. Another day, another chapter. I want to let everyone know how much fun I'm having writing this. It's like I'm reading it while I write it. I know exactly where I want it to go but I'm open to ideas to fill in and make it more enjoyable. 7 years of Hogwarts here people. So drop a review or a suggestion. I might just listen. : ]

As I write I have all 7 books on hand. This fic I suppose can best be described as halfway between AU and JK's universe. **THIS STORY IS NOT A REHASH OF CANON. IT _WILL_ START TO DIVERGE. **

And I don't want to give away too much, but you'll soon start to see... and perhaps have noticed already... that even though she has her mother's good looks, Harry has problems beneath the surface, exactly as an abused child would.

Enjoy the chapter.

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**BETA'D BY Osma77**

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**Chapter 2: The Seventh Month Dies**

_Does the flap of a butterfly's wings in Brazil set off a tornado in Texas?_

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Harry awoke with a start. Her stomach was killing her and making the most miserable racket. Although she could never really see anything in the dark of the closet, she had a feeling that it was still night. The vent that led to the roof was quiet, so it definitely wasn't morning yet. There was a nest of birds somewhere inside it and every day without fail, when the sun peeked over the horizon, she would hear their sweet, twittering song.

Harry strained her ears. Judging by the silence that permeated through Number Four, she assumed that all the Dursleys were sound asleep. It was probably safe enough for her to sneak into the kitchen for some food and water.

_Now's my chance._

Uncle Vernon had been strict with her punishment. The cupboard door was watched like a hawk. She had been forced to stay in the small space day and night; allowed no meals. She was only let out to use the bathroom once a day. Harry would wash, change into new pieces of her Aunt's pinned-up clothing, and drink from the sink, doing all of this under Aunt Petunia's harsh, hawk-like gaze. It had been at least ten days since she had truly eaten. Of course, every few nights when the house was silent, she would sneak to the refrigerator and see if there was anything she could skive out of the top of open containers.

She opened the door as quietly and as slowly as possible. If opened too fast or too far, it would creak loudly and wake her Uncle. Given that his snores could often be heard through three doors, a floor, and three walls, he was a _surprisingly_ light sleeper.

When the opening was wide enough for her to slip through, she squeezed out, hoping her nightie didn't catch on the loose nails around the doorframe. If it _did_ rip, she would be in for it.

Harry tiptoed slowly into and across the kitchen, hissing in annoyance as the freezing tile floor numbed her feet.

Thankfully, finding some opened food in the refrigerator was a simple enough affair. She took two pickles from a jar at the back, pulled some grapes from a few of the fullest looking branches, and nicked two slices of ham from what was apparently left-overs. That seemed odd to Harry. Uncle Vernon and Diddykims never left anything over.

She was eating her way through an opened bag of carrots with her head stuck halfway in the fridge, when she heard a very odd noise. It was a sweet sound, very much like a hum, and it was coming from... right behind her.

Harry straightened slowly, closed the fridge door, and with a hint of fear that Aunt Petunia had somehow managed to come down the stairs without her noticing, turned around.

But no one was there.

The landing light outside the kitchen was still dark.

The humming intensified. It was bright, tinkling, conveyed an air of extreme contentment and was emanating from the kitchen table. Moving closer, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dark, Harry saw a terrible mess on its surface. It seemed as if several bananas had somehow exploded out of their casings and onto the glass, looking like they had each been squeezed from one end.

Harry drew still closer. Moonlight shone down on the table from the kitchen window.

She inhaled sharply in surprise.

In the middle of the banana goo sat… _a snake;_ a thin, white, two-foot long snake;a snake whose green eyes were following her every move; a snake that was... _humming_.

Harry slowly backed away, trying not to make any sudden movements. The snake halted its gentle melody, raised its head, and let out a soft hiss... but that wasn't what Harry heard.

"_Hola, Chica."_

Stumbling backwards into the refrigerator, Harry clapped her hands to her mouth to stop her scream of '_WHAT THE HELL?'_

The little snake cocked its head, peering at her intensely with a beady green eye. It looked almost like it was... waiting for her to speak.

"Um, hello?" she whispered through her hands. Well, that's what she tried to whisper at least. Instead of words, long, hissed syllables escaped from her mouth and in that moment, Harry realized that she had heard them before while at the zoo, but her brain simply hadn't processed it in her anger.

_I can UNDERSTAND snakes? Gods above, Piers was... Piers was right. I am a... a... freak._

The snake's hums began again as it slithered slowly to a pile of banana and engulfed it, swallowing the whole mushy piece. It was a very soothing sound.

"_D__o you perhapss know where Alphonze iss, sspeaker?"_ the snake chimed curiously.

"A- Alphonze?" asked Harry, incredibly perplexed as to _why_ she was hissing to a snake. Snakes were dangerous... even banana-eating snakes.

"_Yess. He iss my mate. You sset uss free,"_ the snake hissed happily, gliding around the table to another pile of mush. "_W__hen the clear wall vanisshed, I knew he would not wait for me, sso I sslipped into your dressss pocket. He will return to you... ssome day."_

"Oh… wait. I think… I think he went to Brazil," Harry said apologetically.

As the snake struggled to move into the hole from which a banana had exploded, it resignedly sighed, _"Men."_

Harry giggled despite the odd situation and tentatively introduced herself. "Well, it's... it's nice to meet you. I'm Harry." She noticed that 'Harry,' in whatever crazy language this was, sounded a bit like 'socks' in English. The snake didn't seem to really care what her name was, but Harry pressed on. "What's your name then?"

However, the snake couldn't answer her as it seemed to have gotten stuck in the hole. It and the banana were thrashing wildly about the tabletop.

"Here," Harry offered. "Let me."

The snake stopped struggling. Harry took the banana and peeled it open. Licking her fingers, she placed it and the freed, banana-mush-covered snake back down on the tabletop.

The reptile began to devour the leftover puddles of fruit. "_Much appreciated, Harry sspeaker. __To ansswer your quesstion… I wass never ssired. I have no name. Alphonze called me 'ssmall one.'"_

Harry frowned. "Well, that's not very a very kind thing to call your mate, is it?" She noticed that the word 'kind' came out in English rather than as a hiss. She said it again, but achieved the same result.

"_Many of your human wordss do not exisst in our tongue, Harry sspeaker... sso I have been told. And if you sso wish... you may name me. It iss your right ass a sspeaker."_

"Name you?" giggled Harry. "Well, how about… Snakey?"

The white snake tore its gaze from its squishy prey and peered banally into her eyes. It didn't need to say anything for Harry to get the point.

"Erm… right. Well, how about a nice 'Al' name to go with Alphonze... like... Alice? Alphonze and Alice."

The snake swallowed another pile of mush before replying plainly, "_That will do, Harry sspeaker."_

Yet Harry didn't quite hear it's answer... for the upstairs landing light had just flicked on.

Panicking, she hastily grabbed the snake, ignoring its hiss of protest as she pulled it away from the bananas. Making a quick run for the cupboard, she dashed inside, closing the door as quietly as she could. She placed the snake beneath her bed and held her breath as heavy feet thumped down the stairs.

_Uncle Vernon._

Harry heard the hall lamps click on and their light flooded through the crack in the door frame. Her Uncle's footsteps padded past her door and into the kitchen. The fridge door opened, shut, and she heard a chair scrape against the tile. Harry huddled into the far corner of the cupboard and shut her eyes tightly. She knew what would happen when one of Uncle Vernon's punishments was not followed to the letter and there was no way he wouldn't notice the mess on the table before she'd had a chance to-

"POTTER!"

_Not good._

There was a sound of heavy, thundering footsteps. The door was wrenched open and her Uncle's meaty hands came into view.

"NO!" she cried, trying to evade him, but his fat hand grabbed her foot and he yanked her out of the cupboard into the light.

Uncle Vernon pulled her up by the hair and he roughly shook her. His face was rapidly turning to a bright shade of purple. "WHAT DID I SAY, GIRL? NO MEALS!"

Tears welling in her eyes from the pain, Harry tried diffuse the bomb. "Uncle Vernon, I didn't d-"

The right side of her face exploded with pain. The world spun around her. Her uncle's backhand sent her careening into the front door. No matter how often this happened, not once did she ever see it coming. Dazed, Harry slid down to the ground. It took her a moment for her sense of balance to return and by the time she was physically able to get up and make a run for it, her uncle was once again looming over her. His thick sausage-like fingers tangled in her hair to pull her up for another hit.

Miraculously, just before the blow landed... the mail slot opened, causing Uncle Vernon to pause in shock.

Amazed at the form of her savior, Harry stared down at the letter that had just been pushed through the door.

**Miss Harriet Lily Potter**

**The Cupboard Under the Stairs**

**4 Privet Drive**

**Little Whinging**

**Surrey**

A strange sense of excitement washed over her. Not once in her life had she ever received a letter. Hand trembling, she reached for it.

Uncle Vernon made an angry grunting noise and he quickly slapped her hand away, snatching the letter up from the floor. As he read the address up close, his bright purple face rapidly lost its color. "PETUNIA!" he shouted. "PETUNIA, GET DOWN HERE! GIRL, GET IN YOUR CUPBOARD!"

"But Uncle Vernon, its addressed-"

Harry was not allowed to finish as Uncle Vernon grabbed her by the arm, dragged her back down the hall, and pushed her roughly inside the small closet.

The door slammed shut.

Harry sat in silence, fuming indignantly. It was relatively clear that she would not be reading that letter tonight, so she curled up and listened to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's heated conversation through the door, only catching small snippets.

"-thought we had… how-"

"-don't… must be watching the house-"

"-know where she sleeps-"

"-move-"

_Bloody hell. _

Her jaw was aching terribly. Putting her hand on her cheek, she closed her eyes tightly and focused on something other than the pain.

_Lily. Lillll-ly. I like that name. _

The thought filled her with a sense of warmth.

A soft hum interrupted her musing. It was emanating from the corner and Harry felt a movement by her feet. A small voice whispered to her in the dark, _"I could kill him for you, Chica. It would be eassy... Jusst a little ssqueeze."_

"N-No..." she said weakly. Her breath was heaving from pain and exhaustion. "That's not what… That's not what I want."

_"Well... if you're ssure..."_

Harry nodded tiredly, her cheek stinging. "I'm sure. I don't want anyone to..." She trailed off as a very strange thought suddenly occurred to her. "Alice?" she asked quietly. "You're a snake... so... why were you eating bananas?"

"_I grew tired of mice, Chica." _

Smiling, Harry slowly fell asleep to the tinkling song of Alice the snake, her hand clutching her face as she dreamt of bananas, letters, and lilies.

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THUMP

CLUNK

Dudley cackled and thundered down the stairs.

_Owww. I hate you, Diddykims._

Cradling her forehead, she pushed open the cupboard door and made her way upstairs. Just before she closed the door to the bathroom, she heard Dudley yell, "DAD? HARRY'S GOT LETTERS!"

She glanced at the little clock on the bathroom wall as she washed. It read 8:45. The two tabs in the middle read 07 and 30. July 30th.

She had been eleven for eight hours and forty-five minutes.

Harry gazed intently at the tiny mirror, examining her eleven year old self, searching for some sort of change. Her nose was still tiny, her skin was still pale, her black hair was still messy, and her emerald eyes were still sunken.

_N__ope_.

Although, she _had_ lost weight over the past ten days; so much so, that she looked a bit like a skeleton.

_Not like I was trying._

There was a large bruise on her forehead, and an even larger one on her cheek. She prodded each gingerly.

_Not too bad, all things considered._

Aunt Petunia's nasal voice drifted up from the kitchen. "GIRL! Get down here now and put the eggs on!"

Harry sighed.

_Happy birthday to me_.

Resigned to her misery, she pulled her white dress over her head and tried to make her hair do _something_ other than flow around her head in an uncontrolled mess.

_Useless._

As she trudged back downstairs, an acrid smell wafted past her nostrils.

_Is something... burning?_

Her question was immediately answered as she passed through the living room. There was a roaring fire in the grate... and in that fire there were about forty, singeing, _smoking_ envelopes.

In the kitchen, Aunt Petunia was scurrying about, picking up envelopes off the previously spotless floor. Uncle Vernon, looking particularly annoyed and purple, was shouting "HOW CAN THEY JUST COME IN THROUGH THE WINDOW?"

Harry made to pick up one of the letters, but her Aunt's foot got there first. Incensed she glared around at her _family _and stalked over to the stove.

A great gust of wind billowed through the kitchen, most likely from the open window.

Banging the pots around rather loudly to express her anger, Harry began to make breakfast.

"Dad!" cried Dudley anxiously, stumbling into the kitchen with his arms full of what must have been a stack of a hundred envelopes. "There's more! They were just... They were just sitting in the living room!"

Uncle Vernon shook out his morning paper, saying curtly, "Toss them right in the fire, Dudley."

Harry had just finished the bacon and she was not going to let this stand. She slammed the pot down on the stove and yelled to the surrounding kitchen, "They're my letters and I want to read them!"

"Quiet, girl!" shushed her aunt. "Or it's right back into the cupboard with you!"

Harry cracked an egg viciously on the side of the pot and pulled it open.

Her jaw went slack.

Instead of yolk, a crisply folded envelope fell out of the shell and into the bacon grease. Completely stunned, Harry gingerly picked up the bubbling letter with her fingernails, reading the address that was scrawled in loopy green ink.

**Miss Harriet Lily Potter**

**The Cupboard under the Stairs**

**4 Privet Drive**

**Little Whinging**

**Surrey**

_How on earth did they get it into an egg?_

Just as she was about to open it, her uncle saw her shaking the grease off the envelope. Lunging up and away from the table, he snatched it out of her hand.

"AHHHGGG!" screamed Uncle Vernon, throwing the hot letter down on the ground. Cradling his burnt hand, he spluttered, "That… is... ENOUGH! Girl... go to your cupboard, collect your things, and go up to the spare room. You will stay there until I open the door to let you out. Do you understand?"

Dudley whined loudly. "But _Dad_, that's my-"

Aunt Petunia shushed him immediately.

Glaring at Uncle Vernon, Harry stomped out of the kitchen and wrenched open the cupboard door. She bent down, grabbed her towel, knickers, and nighties and was about to slam the door, when she remembered. Lowering her voice, Harry whispered into the dark, "Alice? Are you here?"

"_I am here, Harry sspeaker."_

She held out her hand. "Come on. We have to go upstairs."

Instead of simply sliding into her palm, Alice slipped up her arm and coiled around her bicep. Hoping her relatives wouldn't see her with the snake, Harry ran upstairs as fast as she could.

The spare room was small, but still much larger than the cupboard. The lack of space was mostly due to the junk Dudley had left littered around it. Toys, books, and games he had never used filled the shelves and closet. She placed her scant belongings onto the small desk by the window and held out her arm for Alice to slither down to the wood. The snake slid around her pile of ragged clothes and coiled onto the desk lamp that Harry had just lit.

"I hate it here," Harry muttered, rubbing at her eyes which had filled with angry tears.

"_Why do you not leave, Chica?"_

Harry gripped the desk chair until her knuckles turned bright red. "Because… because I have nowhere else to go."

The snake said nothing in return, merely closed its eyes and rested its head under the rapidly heating light-bulb.

Harry sniffled, picked up one of Dudley's many discarded books, and flopped back onto the bed to let the day pass by in another room, but the same prison.

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_She saw eyes. _

_Red eyes burning with madness and hate. _

_A flash of green light._

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**BOOM**

Harry sat up quickly, wincing as she rose, knowing that the coat rail would do its dastardly deed effectively…

But it didn't come.

Opening her eyes, she glanced around the small bedroom in confusion.

_Oh... Right._

She looked at the clock. 4:00 pm.

There was a huge amount of commotion coming from downstairs. It sounded almost as if a train was passing beneath her feet. Slightly excited, she jumped out of bed, raced to the door, and rushed downstairs.

The letters were everywhere: flying out of the chimney, sailing in through windows, and spilling out of the closet. Dudley and Aunt Petunia were cowering behind her Uncle as the envelopes shot around him in every direction. Harry reached out and deftly snatched one from the air.

**Miss Harriet Lily Potter**

**The Smallest Bedroom**

**4 Privet Drive**

**Little Whinging**

**Surrey**

Uncle Vernon dove for her. "THAT IS ENOUGH! WE'RE LEAVING! DUDLEY, PETUNIA, PACK SOME THINGS." He dragged Harry out the front door, down the driveway, unlocked the car, and threw her into the backseat.

Within fifteen minutes they were packed and rolling down the road. Aunt Petunia sat stoically, staring straight ahead and occasionally tittering, "It's alright, Diddykims." Uncle Vernon was muttering to himself heatedly as he drove; nonsense things like "Too right!" and "Can't catch us now!" Every so often he would get a bit too angry and swerve into the left lane. Dudley was crying loudly because Uncle Vernon had smashed his Nintendo as her cousin had tried to stuff it, along with his TV, into his suitcase. Harry, however, sat quietly, fuming at the injustice of it all, subtly kicking the back of Uncle Vernon's seat whenever they drove over a bump.

_They're my letters!_

They drove for hours in no particular direction, taking random exits and pulling into parking garages or shopping malls. For dinner, they checked into a motel with a grungy looking restaurant. They most likely would have stayed the night after eating had the desk clerk not stopped them in the lobby and asked, "Excuse me, is one of you a Miss Harriet Potter? I just got about a hundred of these delivered a few minutes ago."

He had held up a letter.

**Miss Harriet Lily Potter**

**The Front Lobby**

**7:33 pm**

**Railview Motel**

**Cokeworth**

Uncle Vernon's eyes had bulged and he had herded them quickly back into the car.

It was starting to storm.

They drove south for about forty minutes and arrived at the beach. Her uncle parked in an empty lot, left the car without a word, and disappeared into the heavy rain. When he returned a half an hour later, a grizzled old man in a yellow raincoat accompanied him.

"Everyone out. I've found us a place."

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Harry sat in front of the small hearth, shivering. The shack was absolutely _freezing_. The icy ocean spray stung her face as it blew through the cracks in the walls of the front room. Leaning forward, she attempted to dry her dress by fanning it in the heat of the small fire that she had finally started with a few wet matches.

_CREAK_

Harry jumped. The steps outside the shack moaned in what was clearly protest.

_CREAK_

Again.

_BOOM BOOM BOOM_

The tremendous knock shook the very walls and seconds later, Uncle Vernon, in his paisley nightgown, burst into the front room. He was holding what looked to Harry like a rusted, old, double-barrel shotgun. Aunt Petunia and Dudley hid behind his bulbous bottom.

"Who's there?" her uncle demanded. "I'm warning you! I'm armed!"

With a great smash, the door was blown inward off its hinges.

Harry gasped.

A giant of a man, at least ten feet tall, stood just outside the frame. He ducked low to step into the cabin and a deep voice called out gruffly, "Sorry! Sorry!" He picked the door up and put it haphazardly back into its place. "Don' know me own strength!" The man turned, spotted Harry, and his round, bearded face split into a wide smile. He shoved past Uncle Vernon and into the light of the fire.

"And 'ere's `Arry!" the giant said with a happy laugh.

The enormous man pulled off his large, many-pocketed overcoat and hung it on the coat stand, which promptly fell over under the weight of it. He sat down next to her in the large moldy armchair across from the fire, staring at her with beady, yet kind eyes. "Merlin's Beard, `Arry! Last time I saw yeh, yeh was only a baby! And now yer as right beautiful as yer Mum. Look just like Lily, yeh do. Well… no... yeh got James' hair I s'pose. "

Harry stared up at the large man in shock, her jaw hanging open. So many questions were running through her head that she was absolutely unable bring herself to utter a single word.

Uncle Vernon however, managed to find his voice. He hoisted his gun. "Sir, I insist that you leave! You are breaking and entering and I... I am armed!"

The giant guffawed loudly, reached around the arm chair, plucked the shotgun out of her uncle's hands, bent it in half as if it were piece of wire, and tossed it back to him. "Pipe down, Dursley, yah great prune," said Hagrid. He turned back to Harry. "Oh `Arry, I almost forgot. I got summat fer yeh." He reached into one of the largest pockets on his jacket and pulled out a flattish box. Handing it to her, he chuckled warmly and said, "I might of sat on it at some point... but anyway, `Appy birthday, lass."

Inside the box was a slightly squashed chocolate cake, the icing of which read, 'Happy 11th, Harry.' She was about to touch it, when she froze in fear of being slapped. She looked up at the man with a questioning gaze and he smiled down at her, nodding vigorously.

Harry dipped her pinky into the thick icing on the side. She brought it to her mouth and touched it to her tongue. As the chocolate hit her taste-buds, every nerve in her body cried out in joy and she shivered violently.

"Oh no, too sweet is it? I don't usually bake yeh see and-"

"NO!" shouted Harry. "No, it's wonderful… I've just… I've never had chocolate before." She tried to give the man the most brilliant smile she could muster. "Thank you... _so_ much. But… but who exactly _are_ you?"

Harry thought the question sounded a bit rude as it rolled off her tongue, but the huge man barked out a laugh.

"O' course! Slipped me 'ead, lass. The name's Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." He looked at her like this bit of information would explain everything and held out his hand for her to shake. "Call me Hagrid, everyone does."

"Hog-what?" asked Harry, confused. When she grabbed his large pinky and shook, Hagrid smiled, clearly amused for some odd reason.

"Hogwarts, lass! Didn't yeh ever wonder where yer parents learned it all? Albus Dumbledore sent me personally ter take yeh ter get yer-" The giant... _Hagrid_... abruptly stopped speaking mid-sentence, his expression twisting into that of grave concern. If it hadn't been for that affectionate look, Harry would have scuttled away from his hand as it reached out and lifted her chin into the air. He pushed her hair away from her face and beheld the two large purplish bruises.

"`Arry… who.. whaa'-?" In the split second before she covered her face with a hand, Hagrid had seen Harry's eyes dart toward Uncle Vernon. And that had been enough. Hagrid seemed to expand and his eyes darkened. With a booming roar that shook the small house, he cried out, **"DURSLEY!"**

Hagrid stood and marched towards her uncle, who was cowering as the giant advanced on him. He whipped out a large pink umbrella and brandished it like a sword, raising it above his head, then slashing it viciously downwards.

At first, Uncle Vernon gazed fearfully at the large man. Nothing seemed to have happened.

Then, Dudley let out an unholy wail and clamped his hands to his backside. Before her cousin ran out of the room screaming, Harry was able to catch a glimpse of the long, curly-q pig's tail sticking out from the waistline of his trousers. Aunt Petunia shrieked and Uncle Vernon backed away, dragging Petunia along with him. Hagrid raised the umbrella threateningly and her relatives squeaked in terror. They scurried into the back room, shutting the door firmly behind them.

Hagrid huffed in satisfaction. "Sorry about that, `Arry."

"That.. That was… THAT WAS AMAZING!" cried Harry, literally bouncing on the sofa as she said it. "How did you do it?"

Hagrid laughed heartily. "Why with magic o'course! Although, ter be honest, I was aimin fer yer uncle and I meant ter turn `im all the way pig!"

Harry stared at him in confusion, not quite sure if he was taking the mickey out of her. "What do you mean by magic?" she asked slowly. "Like a bunny rabbit... and a hat?"

"No `Arry, o'course not." Hagrid gave her a look that said he too felt that _she_ was taking the mickey out of _him._ "Real magic."

Harry giggled nervously. "Erm... but, magic doesn't exist."

Hagrid seemed puzzled, before the answer slowly dawned in his eyes. "Yeh mean… yeh mean ter tell me that yeh don't know anything?" he asked slightly desperately.

Harry thought that was going a bit far. "Hey... I've been to school! I'm top of the class at maths... and grammar... and... stuff."

Hagrid shook his head. "I don't mean that, lass! I mean about _our_ world. _Yer_ world. _Yer parents' world!"_

Harry scratched her neck. "Erm... what world?"

Hagrid leaned back and whistled, "Blimey. `Arry... yer a witch."

Offended, she asked, "I'm a _what_?"

"No, `Arry... a _witch_." Hagrid made a gesture to suggest that he was wearing a tall pointed hat. "And a thumpin good one I'd bet. James and Lily were about as powerful as they come."

"You knew… you knew my parents before the car crash?" asked Harry, astonished.

"O'course girl! Yer mum and dad were… wait a mo'... car crash? Wha' car crash?"

Harry's head was reeling.

_Does he not know?_

"The... the one that killed them?" she said tentatively.

"WHAT?" roared Hagrid, causing Harry to jump back. "A CAR CRASH? KILL THE POTTERS! NOT BLOODY LIKELY!"

Her heart soared.

_But... if there was no car crash, are they… could they be…?_

Hagrid must have seen the hopeful look on her face, for his expression darkened considerably. "Oh. No `Arry, they were…" he trailed off, gazing into the fire, and Harry's heart began to lose that small flare of hope. "Blimey," Hagrid whispered to himself. "I never expected this. Growin up with muggles that tell yeh nothin. I knew yeh weren't getting yer letters, but this…" Hagrid shook his head sadly. "Ah `Arry. I don't know if I'm the right person ter be tellin yah this... but someone's gotta... yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin why every man, woman, and child knows yer name."

Hagrid paused and it seemed like he was thinking where to begin. "I can't tell yeh all of it, `Arry. Some of it I don't know me self. I suppose it begins with a man called…" he ran a hand through his beard in hesitation.

"A man called what?" Harry asked curiously.

Hagrid's eyes darted to the door, as if someone was listening outside it. "Well, I... I don't like sayin the name if I can help it, lass."

"Really? Why not?"

"Blimey!" cried Hagrid. "_Fear_, girl! People are still scared. He was a wizard and he went… _bad_."

The hushed, serious tone in Hagrid's voice made Harry hug her knees to her chest. "Bad?" she whispered quietly.

"_Dark_, lass… as dark as you can go. His name was…" His eyes darted towards the door once more.

Harry frowned and tried to help the man along. "Could you maybe write it down, Hagrid?

The giant chuckled softly. "Nah, can't spell it. Alright, his name was…_Voldemort_." He shivered violently and the chair groaned in protest. "There! Now don't make me say it again! Anyway, he went dark, `Arry. About twenty years ago, he and his followers started tearing the wizarding world apart. He was strong; _impossibly_ strong. Dark days, lass... dark days. _Thousands_ died."

_"Thousands?"_ whispered Harry, aghast.

Hagrid nodded, took a deep shuddering breath, and continued. "He was after yeh and yer parents, don't know why. And… well… he found yeh. Ten years ago on Halloween. He found yer parents… and he killed em. And when he turned his wand on yeh… well… he couldn't do it. He died, see?When You-Know-Who decided ter kill someone tha' was the end of it. No one survived; no one 'cept `Arry Potter and yeh was only a baby. Tha's why yer famous ` Arry. Something special about yeh ended him; ended the most powerful dark wizard ter ever live."

"But I'm not _special_… I'm just a... a..." Harry trailed off, closed her eyes to forget the blonde boy's harsh, biting words, and muttered weakly, "I don't think I'm special. I don't think I'm a witch."

"Not a witch?" laughed the giant. "HA! Never made anything happen when you was scared or angry? Things you couldn't explain?"

Harry remained silent. Alice, a snake she had freed and could talk to, was sitting on the desk lamp back at Privet Drive.

"Ahh" said Hagrid sagely. "Tha's what I thought. Now... I think it's about time yeh got yer letter, don't you?"

Hagrid picked up his overcoat from the floor and rummaged around through its pockets, spending more than a few minutes pulling out strange bits and pieces of all sorts, all the while mumbling things like, "Now where did I put that blasted…"

At last, Hagrid pulled out a crumpled envelope. He leaned over and handed it to her.

In loopy green script, it read:

**Miss Harriet Lily Potter**

**The Floor**

**Hut-on-the-Rock**

**The Sea**

With trembling fingers, she tore it open.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Dear Miss Potter, _

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Harry frowned.

_They await my owl? _

"Um Hagrid… it says they need an owl and the deadline's today. What does that mean?"

"Merlin's Pants! I had almost forgotten!" Hagrid dug once again into his pockets searching for something. A few seconds later, he pulled out... a real, live, puffy, flapping owl; an owl that did not seem at all pleased to be pulled roughly out of a coat pocket.

Hagrid scribbled something on a piece of old yellowing paper and gave it to the owl, which had perched itself on his shoulder.

"Now, Archibald… take this ter Professor Dumbledore. Understand?" The owl hooted affirmatively, bit Hagrid sharply on the nose, and flew out the window into the stormy sky.

Rubbing his nose, Hagrid muttered gruffly, "Ruddy bird." When his hand fell away, he smiled kindly at her. "Now, `Arry… wha would yeh say ter a nice cuppa tea?"

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Harry and Hagrid walked out of Gringott's bank into the bright sunshine. She was giddy with excitement from both the cart ride and the shopping they were about to do. Even though she was never allowed to choose or touch anything, Harry had always liked shopping with Aunt Petunia at the local food market.

They had just picked up what must have been her own weight in gold, now dangling from a small, bottomless, feather-light pouch on her wrist. She had never had so much… _anything_... let alone money. She was overwhelmed, not just by the mountains of gold in her parents' vault, but also by the peculiarity of... _everything_. In the past hour, she had taken a cart ride through a tunnel that contained what she thought had been dragons, seen a banshee, met goblins, and shaken the hand of what had to be _hundreds_ of people... including one of her future professors. She had seen actual _flying_ broomsticks and three different hats that had live animals scooting around on top of them.

It was by far the oddest and most wonderful experience she'd ever had in her life.

"Might as well get yer uniform first," said Hagrid, pointing over to the nearest shop. "Listen, 'Arry, would yeh mind terribly if I slipped off fer a pick me up at The Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts' carts."

Harry smiled up at the still greenish-looking man. He had been so kind to her; so gentle despite his massive size.

_He feels like... like a friend._

She shook her head happily and skipped straight into Madam Malkin's.

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His eyes roamed apprehensively around the shop.

_It's a bit gaudy. Mother won't approve of me shopping here._

Draco Malfoy was bored; almost unbearably so. His mother and father were off buying his other supplies and Pansy was squirreled away somewhere in Flourish and Blotts, most likely reading the trashy romance novels that she was oh-so-fond of. They were all exactly the same; filled from cover to cover with poorly written stories of hunky, tanned, muscular wizards that would rescued damsels from dragons or trolls and the like. Of course, after the silly tart was saved, she would engage the wizard in some magical, sexual encounter. He had yet to see one that varied from that exact plot. Pansy told him over and over that there were 'subtle differences' that made each book a new experience.

Draco snorted derisively.

_Yeah... right._

All _he_ had to occupy his mind was the squat, mauve-clad woman that was bumbling away at the hem of his robes. His arms were aching terribly and every time he tried to put them down, the woman, even if she was not working on his sleeves, would slap his shins and yell, 'UP!'

Draco stared out into Diagon Alley, looking at nothing, his mind buzzing with… nothing. He needed people around; people that were interested in his life and what he had to say.

Just when his brain was about to go numb from disinterest, a girl skipped through the door.

_Honestly, who skips?_

Madame Malkin walked away from him and over to the girl, asking, "Hogwarts Dear?" The girl opened her mouth, but Malkin interrupted her before she could speak. "Got the lot here – there's a young man being fitted up just now in fact."

_What a completely infuriating woman._

The girl looked toward Draco and her mouth fell open. She ran over to him and excitedly asked, "PIERS? You're a wizard too?"

Extremely surprised, Draco locked eyes with the girl. Her eyes… they were green but… Draco didn't think he had ever seen a green like that before; like a thousand gemstones sparkling in the light.

The girl's excited expression slowly fell when she saw him up close and strangely, this upset Draco. He looked away from her quickly, feeling his cheeks burn with an awkward indignation.

"Oh I… I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I thought you were someone else."

The girl allowed Madam Malkin to help her up onto a stool a few feet from his own. The magical measuring tape whirled around her body as Malkin went back to Draco's hems. The girl seemed very flustered with the instrument's antics. At one point, Draco saw it go up her white dress and she had gasped, her cheeks turning a bright, rosy pink.

"Pay it no mind, deary," Malkin advised her and Draco chuckled dryly at the girl's embarrassment. Again they locked eyes.

_What the hell is the name of that green? _

It was going to drive him mad all day_._

She peered at him interestedly and when she grinned, Draco quickly looked away, fixing his gaze upon the maroon carpet.

There was a tense awkward silence that stretched into several minutes, so Draco, being as bored as he was, decided to strike up a little conversation. "_So..._ who is Piers? Your _boyfriend_?"

Her face didn't even twitch.

_No reaction?_

This girl was either a very good actress... Piers really _was_ her boyfriend... or she had completely missed the jibe.

"No... Piers Polkiss. He was just a boy who was friends with my cousin. The two of you look rather similar; the resemblance is bit startling actually. But… he has blue eyes. Yours are more of a... silvery gray."

The girl gazed sadly out the window and Draco was able to glean a good look at her without her notice. She was smaller than him and rakishly thin... _unhealthily_ thin. Her handsome, albeit slightly old-fashioned white dress stopped just above her knees, which were a bit knobby. Even though she was overly skinny, her facial features were delicate and well placed... just like Pansy's.

He could tell she came from wealth as she had a Gringott's weightless money-pouch attached to her wrist. Those pouches were only given to families like his own; families with the oldest and largest vaults. Her hair was… well, a bit indescribable. It was long, jet-black, stuck up at several inopportune places, and hung loosely around her shoulders, the bangs covering her forehead and bits of her face from view. It wasn't straight… but it wasn't curly. It wasn't bushy… but it wasn't tamed. The best way to describe it would have been wavey-spikey-straitish-I-want-to-run-my-hands-through-it.

_Yes, that's an adequate description_.

And yet, standing out above all her other qualities... were the sizable bruises on her face.

"What happened to your cheek and forehead?" he asked with a drawl.

"Erm... bumped into a door," she muttered vaguely.

Draco could tell from her tone that _that_ topic of conversation clearly wasn't to be touched with a ten foot broomstick. He went for a quick subject change. "You _know,_ I think I just might have a Polkiss way back down the family tree. _Yes..._ yes I'm quite sure of it. Bartholomew Polkiss was his name."

She beamed at him, laughed, and smiled.

_Wow_. _She has a nice smile. Full of… teeth._

Her laugh tinkled in that same soft giggle as Pansy's and Draco suddenly felt that this girl needed to know who he was; needed to know that _he_ was a Malfoy.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he drawled smugly.

"Harriet," she replied quietly. "Well, it's just Harry, actually."

Draco held out his hand and she took it, shaking gently.

He probed on. "Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," said Harry simply.

"My Father says he might buy me a top-end broom for school."

Harry's green eyes widened and she asked him excitedly, "Really? A _flying _broom?"

Draco laughed. "No... a regular broom… _of course_ a flying broom!"

"Wait a minute…" Harry grinned at him and said in a hushed whisper, "Aren't first years not _allowed_ to have brooms at school?"

Draco smirked slyly. "Well, I'll have to keep it extra secret, won't I? You won't tell, will you?"

Harry's giggle echoed over the shop and she promised him, "Nope."

"Cross your heart?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded and made an 'X' across her chest. "Cross my heart."

Draco smiled and asked her what House she thought she'd be in.

Harry shrugged.

"Well, that's alright. No one _really_ knows what house they'll be in untill they get there, do they? I'm almost positive I'll be in Slytherin though. All our family have been. Imagine if-"

Malkin interrupted him. "All done, deary." The squat woman took his money and he appraised himself in the mirror.

_A _d_ecent job... for a Mudblood._

Draco walked toward the door, but before leaving, he turned back to Harry. The measuring tape was still whizzing around her inappropriately.

"Harry?" he asked rather hopefully.

"Yeah?"

"Would you like to come meet my friend Pansy? You two might get on." He watched as her face fell into a sweet, apologetic expression.

It looked like she wanted to say yes, but she shook her head, smiling sadly. "I can't. I'm waiting for someone here... and then I have to get _all_ my shopping done. This was my first stop, you see."

Draco was a bit disappointed. "Well... I suppose I'll see you at school then?"

She flashed him a brilliantly white smile. "Definitely."

He left the shop with a smirk on his face and ducked around a huge man who was walking down the cobbled street, two ice creams dripping down his hands.

_Disgraceful. Letting a giant roam free? Honestly..._

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Harry watched the boy walk out of the shop and around Hagrid's approaching form. She smiled and said to no one in particular, "He was a bit silly, wasn't he?"

Madame Malkin slapped her in the shins and shouted, "UP!"

Harry threw her arms back up to the proper spot. "Sorry… erm, excuse me, Madame Malkin?"

"Yes, dear?"

"What's Quidditch?"

"I know where you're coming from, dear. I grew up muggle. I'll tell you the same thing that a seventh year told me on my first day in Diagon Alley. Think football, with a bit of cricket, and a hint of capture the flag. Roll it all up into one big game, raise it fifty feet in the air, and increase the speed of everything by a hundred miles per hour give or take. That's Quidditch."

Harry breathed out excitedly. "Wicked… and erm, Madame Malkin?"

The woman answered her question before she even had a chance to ask it. "Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin, dear. I myself, was in Hufflepuff."

Harry blushed. "Oh and er… is Slytherin a good House to be in?"

Madam Malkin smiled sweetly at her and said, "As good as the rest, dear."

Outside she could see Hagrid leaning down into the window, waving at her and holding up two huge ice cream sundaes.

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"Jus yer wand left then – oh and I have to get yer birthday present. What would yeh like?"

Hagrid smiled down at Harry... but she wasn't there. He turned around.

She had stopped a few feet back and was staring down at the ground, her hair shrouding her face from view. Hagrid knelt down onto the street and placed his hand on her shoulder. "`Arry?"

"You don't have to get me anything, Hagrid," Harry whispered in a distressed voice. "You've already done…" she trailed off and looked back down at her feet.

_I should murder those ruddy Dursleys._

"Oh, hey now..." He tilted her chin up to look into his face. "I know I don't _have ter_ lass. Tell yeh wha'. I'll get yer animal. Not a toad. Toads went outta fashion years ago."

A corner of the small girl's mouth twitched upwards.

"No cats either," Hagrid muttered. "Don't like cats, yeh see. Make me sneeze."

The other corner twitched.

"I know," he said, tapping her lightly on the nose. "I'll get yeh an owl... and this time, I won't pull it out of me pocket."

A full smile broke across Harry's face.

_Tha's better._

Harry rushed at him, threw her arms around his neck, and gave him a tight hug. Hagrid was surprised at first, but he smiled and patted the small girl gently on the back.

"O'course… I expect yah ter send yer owl ter me hut with a letter at least once a week."

Harry nodded rapidly.

Hagrid stood and clapped his hands together. "Now let's get ter Ollivander's. Hop ter it."

As he couldn't fit through the small door, Hagrid waited outside the little shop while Harry went in alone. It didn't seem to be going very well on the inside however. He could hear a small explosion every few minutes. Hagrid sat outside the shop for a good hour before Harry exited, wand in hand. She looked pensive and a bit frightened.

"Blimey, that took an age. Alright there, lass?"

Harry nodded, but said nothing.

A cool breeze hit Hagrid's face as they entered Eyelops to get her owl. He enjoyed this store; nice and roomy; lots of creatures; his type of place. He pushed Harry to the back of the store and into the Owlry, gave her a small pile of owl treats, and left her to choose her new pet. He was browsing a collection of hinkypunks, when the owner let out a loud squawk and shouted, "Hagrid, we have a problem!"

The sight that met his eyes as he re-entered the Owlry was... _peculiar_... if not downright amusing. Seven owls were chasing Harry around the room while she laughed hysterically.

"`Arry? Wha' are yah doin?"

"Watch, Hagrid!" Harry stopped running and turned towards him with a wide grin on her face. All seven owls fluttered down and landed on her. Three on each arm, one on her head. She began running and the owls took off, resuming their chase. When she stopped again and raised her arms, the owls retook their seats.

Hagrid chortled and rummaged around in his pocket. "Ah here we go." He pulled out a gold colored ball. "S'got a mild compulsion charm on it. Use it ter catch Nifflers." He raised it and every head in the Owlry turned to face him. He tossed it on the floor... and all the bird's flew down to chase after it, hopping around and eying it suspiciously; all the birds except for one, that is.

He laughed. "Looks ter me like yeh got yerself an owl, `Arry."

She glanced curiously up at the snowy white bird on her head, who looked back down at her rather... _owlishly. _"Hullo," Harry said.

_"Hoot."_

Walking out of Eyelops with her owl's cage in hand, Harry turned and tugged on his sleeve, asking, "Hagrid... where can we get some bananas?

"_Bananas?_ Wha' for?"

"Oh," said Harry, skipping to keep up with him. "For Alice, my snake. She told me she liked them."

"She told yeh?"

"Yeah. I can talk to her. Can you talk to any animals?"

Hagrid's heart caught in his chest.

" `Arry, don't go…" He breathed out heavily. Fear flashed through him; fear of this little girl he knew next to nothing about. He was sure she had seen it flash across his face too. "Jus'... don't go tellin' everyone yeh can talk ter snakes."

"So it's bad, then?" Her face was falling back under her hair.

"No! No!" said Hagrid quickly. He didn't like lying to her one bit. "It'll... jus' start lots o' gossip tha's all."

She eyed him slightly sucspiciously and he put on the most convincing smile he could.

"Oh… okay. I just..."

But whatever 'she just,' Hagrid never found out because some pained expression flashed across her face and then she was smiling again, marching towards The Leaky Cauldron with her hair flung back.

_Phew._

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The four weeks until the first of September passed by quickly for Harry. The Dursleys were much too afraid of the warning Hagrid had given them to bother her too much. The giant had made it clear, pink umbrella waving in their faces, that Harry would be fed regularly, would not be touched, and would be escorted to Kings Cross Station. If that did not occur, he warned that there would be 'consequences,' which had made Dudley scamper from the room, clutching his overly large bottom.

And so, for a month at the Dursley household, Harry had lived in relative peace. She read all her school books cover to cover. Well…she had yet to finish A History of Magic, seeing as she found couldn't read past the table of contents without falling asleep.

The last day of August found Harry lying on her bed in nothing but knickers, staring at the clock, willing the minutes to move faster.

_I'd be able to do something productive if it wasn't so bloody hot._

To fully express how hot she thought it was, she said to the room loudly, "It's hot."

_"Hoot,_" Circe agreed.

Harry listened for Alice's reply, but all she heard was the gentle humming coming from the desk lamp.

"Why are you so chipper," asked Harry, annoyed.

"_Becausse I'm cold-blooded, Chica. But more sso becausse tomorrow we will leave thiss place."_

"So... you're coming, then?"

Harry had been asking the snake for weeks whether or not she would come or would wait here for Alphonze to follow the trail of the speaker that freed him. Alice had explained that any snake granted a boon by a speaker would be compelled to return the favor eventually.

"_Yess, I think sso. It iss rare for any one of uss to sserve a sspeaker. It iss an honor."_

"I don't think I want a servant, Alice. I want a friend." Harry frowned when the word friend came out in plain in English. She tried again with "companion."

English.

"Partner."

English.

"Ally."

"_Very well, Harry sspeaker. Alliess."_

"But... speaking of services, do you think you could come sit on me and cool me off? Leach some of the heat out?" Alice made a noise that could only be described as a chuckle, slithered down the desk lamp, and slid onto Harry's outstretched arm. Alice coiled around and up the offered limb and nestled in the indent of Harry's collarbone.

"Ah…you're a life saver."

The snake said nothing, but uncoiled enough to dart it's tongue out against Harry's cheek, before settling back into the crook of her neck.

"Why can't you be cold-blooded too, Circe?"

_"Hoot."_

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"Oh _Ouch! _I'm sorry about that!" Harry had walked right into someone coming out of the loo and they had banged heads.

The boy she had hit was gingerly rubbing his temple. "S'okay," he said with a shrug.

"Sorry again!" Harry had darted around him, dragging her cart towards Platform 9.

She saw the boy watching her go, scrunching his face as if trying to remember something important.

That incident had been nearly an hour ago.

"_You ssmell... odd."_

"I bathed in a sink," muttered Harry in annoyance. "Cut me some slack."

Alice was coiled tightly around her thigh a few inches above her dress hem. It was an odd sensation to have a snake on her leg, but she found it rather comforting in this large, noisy station to have a friend nearby.

"Oh Alice," Harry moaned. "Where is this place?"

She sat down on a bench in an exhausted slouch. She looked up at the two signs in front of her, entirely perplexed. One read '9' and one read '10'. She had walked along each, up and down, up and down... but had found nothing. Nowhere in sight was there a platform sign that read '9 ¾'.

The day had been going so well too. Uncle Vernon had dropped her off two hours before the train was scheduled to leave, because he was 'sick of her standing at the door looking ready to go' all morning. And yet, how could she not have been? This was her chance at a Dursley-free life; a life with people like Hagrid and Draco; people that didn't shy away from her like she was plague ridden.

This was her chance to be happy... and she was going to miss the train that would make it all happen.

_If there even is a train..._

Harry groaned. According to the station clock, the train to Hogwarts left in an hour and she couldn't find it. She put her head in her hands and moaned as a large, noisy group of redheaded people walked past.

She smelled it long before she saw it: cinnamon and strawberries. It was heavenly. Sure enough, a few moments later, a girl in a black beret and blue jumper, approached the bench in a huff. She was only slightly smaller than Harry and in her arms was a large brown bag that reeked of cinnamon. She sat down next to Harry and closed her eyes, breathing heavily. Harry watched intently as she kicked off her little velvet shoes; as she clenched and unclenched her toes; as she sighed in contentment and pulled both feet into a pretzel-position on the bench.

She heard a voice call out across the platform area, "Ginny! _Please _don't eat all of those! They're for your brothers too!"

The girl... apparently named Ginny... yelled back, "I _know,_ Mum!"

Harry giggled, but looked pointedly away before Ginny opened her eyes and noticed that she was being watched.

Harry heard her muttering angrily; heard her reaching into the bag, heard her taking something out. She desperately wanted to look around and peer into the bag to see what smelled so extraordinary, but she didn't dare. Ginny ate in silence and Harry tried her very best not to pay any attention to her or the cinnamon covered… whatevers.

"Do you want one?"

Harry tensed up, gluing her gaze onto the far wall as if she hadn't heard. There was a crinkle of paper. Out of the corner of her eye, Harry saw Ginny hoist the bag off the seat and plop it into her lap. With it, she scooted all the way down the bench. Once they were knee to knee, Ginny pulled a neatly-wrapped sandwich-square out of the bag and held it out to her. "It's alright," she giggled. "Have one."

Harry glanced nervously at the square, but couldn't bring herself to take it or look at Ginny. For whatever reason, her breathing was rather heavily and a knot was stuck in her throat.

Ginny sighed and, giving Harry a cajoling nudge, whispered, "Oh come on, there's no use pretending anymore. I know you want one. I..." Ginny seemed to be searching for the right words and then she smiled. "I... _caught you in the act_. They do smell wonderful, don't they?" Ginny took Harry's hand in her own and placed it over-top the sandwich. "Please. Have one. My mum made plenty."

Harry finally summoned the courage to look at the girl. She was so very close. Harry could see shiny, cherry-red hair spilling out from underneath the beret in a long plait. Ginny's smiling face was covered in light freckles and her large, amber, gold-flecked eyes were boring directly into Harry's own.

She felt the spaces right under her cheekbones heat up. "I couldn't possibly-" started Harry, but the little red-headed girl actually took a hand and covered her mouth, saying with a laugh, "Just eat it already!"

"I… I'm sorry," Harry spluttered as Ginny's hand moved away. "I was just trying not to stare. They smell so good and I… you know?"

Ginny waved her off and leaned back. She was sitting right up against Harry's leg as she resumed eating her sandwich with a satisfied grin.

Harry looked down at the the little square and asked, "H-How did you know I wanted one?"

It was the red-headed girl's turn to blush slightly. "Oh, I... erm... I was watching you. You were staring at that wall over there for about ten minutes straight while your nose was twitching like crazy. And my mum always says that people that avoid looking at you are the ones paying you the most attention."

Harry nodded and unwrapped the small square. Holding it up to her eyes contemplatively, she asked, "So what is this thing?"

Ginny popped a bit into her mouth. "My mum calls it monkey candy. Not sure if that's because it has banana on it, or because our family is a little bit… well… _wild._ It's basically a toasted banana and marshmallow sandwich, with butter and cinnamon brown-sugar on the bread. Try it. It'll change your life."

She bit down... and her eyes widened.

_Oooohh._ _That's… that's… oh my. _

It tingled all the way down. She looked over at Ginny to tell her what she thought of it, but the girl was giggling at her.

"I told you! Oh wow... your face! It went through about eight different expressions before you even swallowed."

They ate in companionable silence. There was something that felt... _right..._ about the way they sat. For the first time in her life Harry felt comfortable; she felt at peace. Even when they had finished the sandwiches and there was no longer a reason to sit together, Harry found that she didn't want this girl to leave.

_But that's what people do here, I suppose. They leave._

It looked a bit like Ginny was nodding off because her eyes were closed and her head kept drooping down towards Harry's shoulder.

Harry gave her a small, gentle nudge and said, "You shouldn't fall asleep. You might miss your train."

Ginny's amber eyes popped open. Harry saw her eyebrows furrow in a 'V' and Ginny picked at a run in her stockings.

The freckled girl sighed heavily. "I'm not… well… I'm not getting on a train."

"Oh?" asked Harry softly. "Why not?"

Ginny was obviously extremely upset and Harry felt a very strong urge to make her feel better. She took the redhead's hand and squeezed it in what she guessed might have been a comforting manner.

Ginny looked away from her and said into her shoulder with quite a bit of contempt, "Because I'm not _old_ enough! I turn eleven in two months and I'm not _old _enough. All my stupid brothers are leaving and I have to stay at home with Mum."

Harry was a smart girl. It took her only a few short seconds to realize why a ten-year-old girl sitting at a bench between platform Nine and Ten would not be allowed to get on a train. But... she had to be sure. She didn't want to ask the girl if she was a witch or not, and then get into some sort of trouble if she wasn't. However, Harry knew what could confirm her suspicion.

"Hey. What's your name?"

"Oh… Gi-Ginny Weasley." Ginny smiled up at her with her hand still clasped in Harry's own. "What's yours?"

Harry, watching for change in the girl's expression, said slowly, "Harry Potter."

Harry knew it. Ginny had seized up and blanched, her hand involuntarily tightening around Harry's own. Amber orbs mimicked the same flick upward to Harry's forehead that she had received by the eyes of about two-hundred people in Diagon Alley.

" Har… Harry Potter?" Ginny asked breathlessly.

"Yeah. Does… does that mean you're a witch too?" She had whispered it, partly because she didn't want anyone around her to hear, but mostly because she was apprehensive of the answer. She _wanted_ this girl to be a witch. She _wanted_ this girl to be her friend.

Ginny gave a slight nod.

_Phew. _

Harry smiled widely at her and that seemed to knock a bit of reality back into the red-headed girl, because the death-grip on Harry's hand lessened and some color returned to Ginny face.

"Could... do you... do you think I could see it?" Ginny babbled, "Your... you know... your scar?"

Harry hesitated. She had begun to really dislike the looks she got when she introduced herself. They were all fearful, or ingratiating, or awestruck, Everyone would stare at her forehead like she was a circus attraction and Harry had decided that she didn't like being famous for something she couldn't remember doing; she didn't like being famous for having a dead mum and a dead dad.

Ginny immediately saw her hesitation and began apologizing profusely, flushing bright red, her ears going pink. "Oh, Harry, I… I'm so sorry… of… of course not."

Harry only vaguely acknowledged that their hands were still entwined. She didn't know _why_ she did what she did, but Harry reached up and tucked as much hair as she could behind her ear, fully revealing her forehead.

Ginny stared blankly at it.

_Here it comes. 'Thank you so much for killing him off, Miss Potter.' 'We're forever in your debt, Miss Potter.' 'You've done the world a great deed, Miss Potter.' _

Ginny was so very close and Harry felt a bit like she was under a microscope. And then… before she could even so much as react, Ginny raised a hand, traced the scar with a finger, and said in a very quiet voice, "I'm sorry about your mum and dad."

Harry didn't quite know what to say so she withdrew her eyes and began fiddling with the velvet on her dress.

Ginny was the first to break the silence. "So… so why haven't you gotten on the platform yet? The train… well, it leaves soon you know..."

"I don't know how to get on," admitted Harry with a shrug.

Ginny giggled. "But I do, silly! Come on where's your cart?" The redhead jumped up, suddenly looking very excited. "If I can't go... at least I can help _you_ go!"

Harry pointed towards the cart where Circe and her luggage sat.

Ginny released her hand, ran over to it, and maneuvered it back to the bench. "Come on, you great lump! Let's get you on that train." She rushed off down the middle of the Platform Nine towards a tall redheaded man who had his arm around a much shorter redheaded woman.

Harry picked up Ginny's bag of sandwiches and followed.

"MUM!" shouted Ginny, skidding to a halt.

The short woman, who was fiddling with the collar of a slightly pompous-looking boy, jumped in surprise.

"Ginny? What's wrong, dear? And whose cart is that?" She proudly patted the pompous boy on the cheek and whirled on her daughter. "Did…did you _steal _someone's cart?"

The boy waved a farewell and walked behind a barrier. Harry almost didn't notice that the boy failed to reappear on the other side.

"Yes, Mum," groaned Ginny sarcastically. "I stole someone's cart... _honestly... _steal a _cart?_ Of… of course not! This is Harry's. She needs to get onto the platform. How much time until it closes?"

Mrs. Weasley had just caught sight of her trailing along behind Ginny. "Oh hello there de- GOOD LORD!"

Harry knew the woman had seen her scar. Her hair was still tucked back and she hastily shook it out to fall into her face.

Mrs. Weasley obviously took the hint, smiled apologetically at Harry, and turned back to Ginny. "Oh, yes… well… about twenty minutes I expect, love. Why don't you go with… with Harry here and help her get onto the train? That way, you can give your brothers their sandwiches."

"Okay, Mum." Ginny grabbed Harry's hand and pulled her over to the barrier, still mumbling under her breath about stolen carts. "Do you see that wall, Harry?"

"Oh, erm, yeah." Harry thought this was a slightly odd question.

Ginny grinned and rocked back and forth on her heels. "Just close your eyes and run into it."

_"What?"_ laughed Harry. "It's solid brick!"

Ginny stepped up onto the rail of the cart so she was about five inches above Harry. She grasped the handles on each side so she didn't fall and turned to face her. "Do you trust me?" Ginny asked, grinning widely.

Harry took in the girl's appearance. Her red plait hung down from the back of her neck and was thrown over her shoulder to her chest. Her blue jumper was waving a bit in the wind and her bright amber eyes were looking down at Harry with warmth... _r__eal_ warmth.

"Yeah." Harry tucked her bangs behind her ears. "I trust you."

"Then close your eyes and run into it."

Harry grasped the handles and she felt Ginny's hands wrap around her own.

_We are so going to crash_. _Ginny will go flying. _

The redhead leaned down to Harry's ear and whispered softly, "Do it."

_Circe will be smashed._

Harry shut her eyes tight.

_And it will be all my fault._

She ran.

3…

2…

1…

0…

-1?

Harry opened her eyes and slowed the cart. A huge scarlet steam engine stood in front of her, billowing purple smoke up to the rafters of King's Cross. Hundreds of people were milling about and large, black sign above their heads read Platform 9 ¾.

_What? How?_

She could still see the station all around her. She could see all the businessmen and families rushing to their trains, oblivious to the monstrous one that had just popped into existence. She could see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley still standing on Platform 9.

Ginny hopped down off the cart. "They can't see us. All sorts of charms and things hide it."

"It's amazing!" said Harry, noticing Ginny's face falling into a sad smile.

"Yeah, it is. I _so_ want to go as well. I asked my brother Ron if he would write to me about it all. The twins are always making up terrible stories about it, so I can't possibly know what to expect. They said you have to fight a mountain troll before you're sorted! I want to know what it's like. But Ron... well, he's… well… he's a prat."

Harry watched Ginny's lips as she spoke.

_They're very small. Ginny seems to be very loud. I wonder how that works out?_

Harry heard the words roll off her tongue without really realizing she had said them. "I'll write to you, Ginny."

Ginny opened and closed her mouth like a fish.

"I'll write to you every week," Harry mumbled.

"Really, Harry? You… you don't have-"

"I want to."

Ginny shrieked in joy and threw herself at Harry for a hug. It was the first _real_ hug that Harry had ever received and she returned it happily, inhaling a deep breath.

_Strawberries._

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There is a room, inside a room, inside a circular room. Inside this room are benches. The benches surround a pedestal. Floating above this pedestal is a rune suspended by nothing. And on September the 1st at 10:46 AM, the rune glowed red.

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**Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page. Contains some NSFW content.**

**Review. Feedback is welcome and needed even though I update regardless.**

_To answer questions I see popping up:_

_No. This is not a soulbond fic. I detest them._

_No. Draco is not OoC. He's still the jerk we all know and love, but he just has a different relationship with Harry... and that doesn't automatically make him good._

_No. Harry will not be getting any magical super powers from Alice. She's just a snake._

_Harry didn't read History of Magic thus, no Hedwig._

_Yes, I know cold-blooded animals don't absorb heat like some sort of wonky vaccum. I just thought it was cute._


	4. Chapter 3: Beginnings

**I do answer all signed questions and PMs. But since people are constantly asking****, my profile pic is 4th year Harry. **

**Don't be discouraged by Harry's attitude toward Hermione in this chapter... everything will play out. *wink***

I will use pov changes a lot for story and character progression. I often find that one long story from one character's perception is never the way to go.

Harry can hide her scar much better than canonHarry. Long hair is both a blessing and a curse.

**So if you haven't figured this out by now. The change causing A BUTTERFLY EFFECT in this universe, is Harry being conceived a day earlier. Different day, different sperm. Pretty simple. The ripple of change will continue to grow as the story goes on.**

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Beta'd by Osma77

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**Chapter 3: Beginnings**

_A dynamic system with evolution map f(t) displays sensitive dependence on initial conditions if points arbitrarily close become separate with increasing t. If M is the state space for the map f(t), then f(t) displays sensitive dependence to initial conditions if there is a δ0 such that for every point xEM and any neighborhood N containing x there exists a point y from that neighborhood N and a time τ such that the distance_

**_D(ft(x ), ft(y) δ_**

_The definition does not require that all points from a neighborhood separate from the base point x._

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_Today isn't going to be a good day. I can feel it. What if I don't get in?_

His mother was still banging on the door.

_Ugh. Leave me in peace._

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY, GET OUT OF BED THIS INSTANT! DO NOT MAKE ME COME IN TO GET YOU!"

Pulling his pillow over his head, he said to the door, "Five more minutes, Mum."

"DON'T FIVE MORE MINUTES ME, YOUNG MAN! UP! NOW!"

He heard her footsteps receding away down the stairs.

_That woman is a nightmare._

Ron got out of bed as slowly as he could, keeping his head on the pillow until the rest of his body was hanging over the edge of the mattress. The sunlight pouring into his room was excruciatingly bright. He was the only Weasley in the house with a bedroom window facing east. Never would he be able to forgive the author of 101 Tricks to Birthing a Girl, who had suggested that the orientation of a future child's nursery would somehow help to determine its sex. Not even Ginny had to experience this torture as Mum had given up on a daughter after his birth.

Ron clumsily stumbled from the room, tripping over one of his many Chudley Cannons t-shirts on the way out.

_I don't want to go to school. I want to sleep, play some chess, and sleep some more._

The bathroom was currently occupied and Fred, George, and Ginny were leaning against the wall outside it.

"One bathroom; nine people," Ron groaned out. "I think the one positive quality Dad lacks is the ability to plan ahead."

"Well _hello_ to you too, Ronniekins," said Fred... or maybe it was George.

_Not that it matters._

Ron leaned against Ginny and put his arms around her shoulders. "Gin… let me sleep on you."

Ginny pushed him off and said angrily, "You can use me as a pillow when you agree to write me letters every week."

_Now it's every week? It'll be every day by breakfast! _

"I told you, Gin, I'm going be too busy to write you letters all the time. Can't you just wait until Christmas to hear about it?"

Ginny adopted Mum's most effective 'I'm furious at you' glare.

"Fine then. I'll just use this wall."

"Fine," said his sister ambivalently.

_"Fine,"_ drawled Ron.

"FINE!" growled Ginny.

**"FINE," **the twins chimed in.

"Now both of you shut it," said Fred… or George.

"Because it's too early for shenanigans," said George… or Fred.

"Unless caused by us," they chorused in unison.

Percy opened the bathroom door and trooped out. Fred, George, and Ginny struggled to be the first one to get in next. Ron, being the _master strategist_ that he was, dove on the floor, crawled through George's legs, stood, and shut the door behind him as they all continued to struggle.

After he had showered and changed, he clomped his way down to the kitchen. Mum was already busy at the stove, frying away.

_Blegh. Monkey Candy. I hate bananas._

Grabbing some toast with marmalade, Ron headed out the door and down the little path to his father's shed. He pushed his way through the piles of muggle 'stuff that didn't work' and shouted, "Dad? Where are you?"

"Here," said a grunting voice from behind the... _refidgerotor?_

Walking around the tall, white cabinet, he found his father sitting on their ratty old bean-bag whilst tinkering with bits and ends from the enormous motorbike that had been occupying their shed for years.

"Hullo, Ron," said Dad cheerily. "All packed?"

_Not even close. _

"Oh… yeah. Listen, Dad, can I… can I ask you something?"

His father laughed under his breath. "Didn't you just? What's on your mind, son?"

Ron hesitated, dreading the answer to the question that had been eating at his nerves ever since the January morning that he had received his letter. "Well, Dad, what if I'm not… _you know_... in Gryffindor?"

His father stopped his work and looked up at him with a penetrating stare. "What do you mean by 'what if,' Ron? Are you asking me what _I'd_ think?"

Ron nodded slowly.

Sighing, Dad patted the large bean-bag. "Come sit down, Ron."

He sank down into the squishy chair and watched in silence as his father banged a large, silver-looking instrument all around the wheels of the bike. It didn't seem to creating any sort of change. After several minutes of haphazard banging, his father asked softly, "Ron, do you remember when you caught that huge fish down in the stream without a line? How it just jumped right into your hands?"

"Yeah. It _was_ pretty big."

"Do you remember how proud your mother and I were? Our son performed wandless magic at age five simply because he wanted fish for dinner. You're going to be a fine wizard one day, Ron. Not being in Gryffindor isn't going to stop that from happening." He ruffled Ron's hair. "Your mother and I will always be proud of you... no matter what house you're in."

"Even if I get put into Slytherin?"

His father chuckled and said warmly, "Yes Ron, even Slytherin. But we both know that if you get sorted into Slytherin, you'll leave the school out of your _own_ volition."

_Too right I would._

Dad patted him on the back of the neck. "Anything else?"

Ron shook his head.

"Good, glad I could help, son. Now, go pack."

_He always knows._

An hour and a half later, Ron found himself smushed between the twins in the backseat of the Ford Anglia as they pulled into the Kings Cross parking lot.

_Merlin's balls. I have to pee._

They made their way into the station with relative ease, despite Ginny somehow getting lost twice.

"Well, we have two hours," said his father slowly, gesturing around the large station. "Who wants what to eat?"

Cries of "PIZZA" and "PASTIES" and "PASTA" all echoed over Percy's monotone, "Salad, please."

They put their things down at a large table and Ron rushed as quickly as he could for the nearest bathroom.

_Ahhhh, sweet relief._

He cleaned himself up and walked out.

WHAM

Ron collided into a small girl that must've been running at full-speed with her cart.

_Well... not running... jogging... briskly. Well... maybe she was walking, but it still bloody hurt!_

"_Ouch!" _cried the girl, clutching her head in pain with her eyes shut tight. "I'm sorry about that!"

"S'okay," Ron said a bit begrudgingly. He too rubbed his head where she had bumped it and noticed that she had an owl.

_Must be going to Hogwarts too… or maybe she's a bird watcher's assistant… or maybe she's just a nutter._

Still clutching her head, the black-haired girl ran around him yelling, "Sorry again!"

With a wave of her hand, she was gone.

The black-haired girl seemed oddly familiar, yet Ron couldn't remember from where he knew her. He thought it might've had something to do with... _candy._

_Well, that could just be the toffee apple stand. Ohhh... toffee apple._

A girl was eating one of the heavenly sweets just a few feet away from him. She had monstrous, bushy, brown hair and large chocolate-colored eyes. She looked a bit like an owl if anything and she was staring… _straight at him_.

"That looked quite painful," she said pointedly. "Are you quite alright?"

Ron liked the tone of her voice. It was a bit like a sing-song. "Oh erm... yeah... m'fine. That looks good," he said, pointing at the apple.

"Oh yes, it _really_ is delightful," agreed the girl exuberantly. She tried unsuccessfully to obtain a tiny bit of caramel at the corner of her lip that was out of reach for her tongue. "You should get one."

He looked at the both the apple and the little bit of caramel on her lip longingly. "Oh… um, _no..._ I can't."

The girl walked towards him, leaned forward, and gazed quizzically into his eyes, as if he were a puzzle that she couldn't unravel. She tilted her head to the side and asked slowly, "Why not? Are you a diabetic?"

"No! I just… I can't afford it. A dia-what?"

The girl didn't show him any pity, which he appreciated. Instead, she cleared her throat and said in a scholarly, overbearing tone, "Diabetic: of or pertaining to diabetes which is a disorder characterized by the inadequate production of insulin. My Uncle is a diabetic."

Not understanding the vast majority of what the girl had just said, Ron simply replied, "Oh."

Seeming satisfied, the toffee apple girl nodded finitely and walked away.

When it was time to board the train, the Weasleys made their way over to Platform 9 in a large, noisy group and Ginny was getting extremely angry with him.

"Bugger _off_, Gin," he said, swatting her head like he would a fly.

"NO, RON, I WILL NOT!" she yelled in a rage.

Ron scoffed.

As fast as lightning Ginny switched her tactics. Clutching at his arm, she mumbled in a much softer, pleading voice, "Why won't you write to me, Ron? I'm your sister. Don't you love me? Just a few letters... _please?_" Her eyes got very big and she poked out her bottom lip.

_Ugh_.

"None of the others wrote us letters when _we_ were home alone, Ginny. Why should _I_ have to?"

"Because I won't have _anyone,_ Ron! It'll just be me and Mum." She paused and started to sniffle. "And... And I want to know about Hogwarts! What if there really _are_ mountain trolls at the sorting?"

"Don't use those fake tears on me, Ginny. We all know you never cry for real. I already said no... now leave me alone!"

His sister stomped her foot angrily and went back to stand by their mother, who bent down, wiped Ginny's eyes, glared at Ron, and gave her daughter the bag of sandwiches. Ginny ran off in a huff to a nearby bench.

His mother called out to her, "Ginny! _Please _don't eat all of those! They're for your brothers too!" She turned back to Ron. "Ron, dear, I wish you wouldn't upset your sister like that. You know how she can get. She'll be angry for days."

_Yeah, well, I wonder where she got it from?_

"Aren't you coming in?" he asked, preparing to charge through the barrier.

"No, we'll stay out here until Ginny has cooled off a bit. Your father wants to show me how the eclectic lamps work anyway. You go on ahead."

Ron nodded and ran.

The large, familiar steam engine suddenly loomed in front of him. There were people _everywhere_. There were students in robes, students in normal clothes, tearing parents sending their children away for the first time, and parents that looked exceedingly _bored_ with the proceedings.

Ron spent ages trying to find the twins in the mess.

"Gran, I've lost my toad again," said a round faced boy to his grandmother.

"Oh _Neville_," he heard the old woman sigh.

Ron saw a small crowd gathered nearby. Someone shouted, "Give us a look, Lee! Go on!"

A dark-skinned boy bent down to open the box and a huge, hairy leg poked out from its depths.

_SPIDER!_

Jumping an entire foot into the air, Ron shrieked in an extremely high pitch that echoed all the way up to the rafters. As the platform went silent and the crowd looked up at him, he felt himself flushing all the way down to his toes.

One of the twins appeared out of nowhere and clapped him on the back. "Well done, Ronniekins."

The other twin materialized and did the same, adding, "We'll remember that one for years to come."

"Get bent, the both of you," Ron muttered grumpily.

The twins helped him load his trunk into a compartment and then went off to find Lee and his spider.

_Which I'm sure is going to end up on my pillow tonight._

Just as Ron was about to get on the train, his nostrils flared. He could smell it long before he saw it.

_Toffee apple._

Sure enough, through the crowd, walked the toffee-apple-stand girl, although she didn't seem to have any toffee apples on her person.

_Probably shouldn't call her toffee-apple-stand girl. 'Hullo toffee-apple-stand girl. I'm Ron. Have any toffee apples?' Smooth. Very smooth._

She was trying to lift her trunk into a compartment, but was only halfway there. Her knees were bent at odd angles and he could tell she was not going to be able to get it in by herself. He walked up to her and asked politely, "Do you need some help with that then?"

"Oh no, I'm fine," she huffed without looking up.

Ron raised an eyebrow as he watched her struggle.

_I think it's actually falling further out of the door._

"Are you _sure?_" he asked quietly.

Breathlessly, the girl replied, "Oh yes, quite sure, thanks."

Finally, after watching her battle with the trunk for a full minute, Ron could take no more. He grabbed on to the bottom and together, with a mighty shove, they heaved the heavy box into the compartment .

The girl whirled on him with a belligerent expression on her face and started to say, "I told you... I didn't need your-"

Her words failed her when their eyes met.

"Hullo," Ron said with a cheery wave. "S'me again."

"So _that's_ why you didn't know what a diabetic was! Because you're a wizard."

He was somewhat expecting to receive a cheery wave in return, but she just stood there, observing him as if he were some sort of... odd experiment.

"Oh, erm… _yeah_, I am."

The bushy-haired girl cocked her head, peering at him intently with her deep, chocolaty-brown eyes. It felt a bit like she was searching for something, even though her gaze never left his face.

Ron scratched his head nervously and shifted from foot to foot.

In a quiet, yet curt voice, the girl was the first to break the exceedingly awkward silence. "Thank you for helping me with my trunk. By the way, you have a bit of dirt on your nose. Just there."

Before Ron could do anything about the smudge, she licked her finger and began to ardently rub at his face. She was so very close and he was sure he could smell it in her hair.

_Toffee-apple._

"There," the girl said. "That's much better." Without another word, she nodded in satisfaction, turned, and stepped onto the train, leaving him standing there feeling a bit like a tornado had just passed through his brain.

"Ron! Where are you?"

He snapped back to reality when he heard his mother's voice echoing out above the crowd.

Venturing back down the crowded platform, he saw the large crowd of Weasleys standing by the compartment into which he and the twins had placed their luggage. Ginny was back, handing out sandwiches to her brothers. She looked extremely happy, which was odd given their family's tendency to let their tempers run wild for days. She smiled up at him as he approached, handing him two sandwiches.

"Hullo," she said cheerily.

Now that Ginny wasn't desperately clinging to his arm and asking him to write to her, Ron felt extremely guilty that he said no in the first place. Seeing her happy and bouncing around made him feel wretched, because he realized that seeing her sad to see him leaving... well, it made _him_ happy.

_She's supposed to be sad! I'm her big brother! But... Oh bugger this._

"Ginny," he muttered apologetically. "Look, I'm sorry about before. Of… of course I'll write to you."

She smiled and patted him on the chest. "It's alright, Ronniekins. You don't have to."

Ron was utterly perplexed.

_Where did that come from? I'm never going to understand what goes through her head. Girls are ridiculous._

Percy opened his mouth to chime in, "Can't stay long, Mother. I'm up front; the Prefects have got two compartments to themselves."

Ron noticed that his brother's badge now read, 'Peefect,' and he wondered how long it would take Percy to notice Fred and George's handiwork. Probably not until Penelope Clearwater laughed openly at him.

"Oh are you a _Prefect, _Percy?" marveled a twin giddily. "You should have said something!"

"_Hang on_, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin, dusting Percy's shoulders proudly. "Once-"

"Or twice-"

"A minute-"

"All summer-"

"Oh shut up," said the Peefect, slapping their hands away.

"Wait a mo'..." mumbled a twin indignantly, stepping closer to inspect Percy's clothing. "These are _new!_ Mum, why does _Percy_ get new robes and we don't?"

His mother gave the be-speckled redhead a sickeningly lovey, 'proud mum' look. "Because he's a _Prefect. _Alright, dear, have a good term; send me an owl when you get there."

Mum whirled on Fred and George as Percy walked off. "Now… _you two._ This year you _will_ behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've… you've blown up a toilet or-"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet!"

"Great idea though. Thanks, Mum."

"It is not funny, Fred! And make sure you look after Ron."

Ron scoffed.

_Them? Look after me? Ha._

"I'm not Fred! I'm George! Honestly wo-"

Mum wacked the protesting twin on the head. "You're Fred. You already tried that out at the barrier, dear. George had his hair parted in the other direction."

Fred and George grinned, pulled out two combs, and slicked their hair in the opposite directions. Smiling at Mum cheekily, they chimed in unison, "Are you sure I'm Fred?"

"Oh just get going... all of you."

Mum patted Ron on the cheek and Ginny hugged him.

"I promise, Gin... I'll write. I'll send you loads of letters."

The twins laughed. "We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!"

Mum shot them a death glare.

Climbing into his compartment, Ron was surprised to find someone already there, curled up on the bench, fast asleep.

"Blimey," said one of the twins in hushed whisper. "Someone's been up all night. Alright, we're going down the end of the train, Ron. Lee has got... _well..._ he's got a surprise."

"I swear I'll kill you both if that spider ends up in my bed," he muttered angrily.

Fred and George chuckled conspiratorially and left the compartment.

Ron sighed in exasperation and turned. The cloak that the girl was using as a blanket had slipped away from her face.

His eyes widened as he realized that it was the very same girl who had collided with him outside the bathroom

_I knew she was going to Hogwarts! Well, guess she's not a nutter then._

Ron couldn't help watching her as she slept. Her fingers we're twitching and her eyes were moving rapidly under her eyelids.

_Must be some dream._

As if she had heard his thoughts, the girl moaned unhappily and her long, messy black hair fell into her face as the train jostled forward.

Ron noticed that her trunk sat beneath her. scrawled upon the front of it were little letters that said '_HLP'_. _His_ trunk said '_BAW';_ Bill's of course.

He spent the next thirty minutes in silence, reading a Chudley Cannon's magazine he had brought along for the ride... or at least trying to read it that is. His traveling companion was having terrible dream; he could tell. Occasionally, she would moan and cry out. Wanting to do something to help, Ron grabbed one of the blankets off the top rail of the compartment, unfolded it, and placed it over her thin frame. His hand brushed across her hair as he did so and a pleasant feeling shot down his spine.

_Weird... it's spiky... but it's soft... although... I'd wager that it's probably not as soft as toffee-apple-stand girl's. Hers looked like a big, silky marshmellow._

The compartment door slid open.

_Well, speak of the devil._

Toffee-apple-stand girl sidled inside, accompanied by the boy who had lost his toad on the platform. But before either one of them had the chance to speak, a terrible, heart-wrenching wail erupted from the sleeping girl's mouth.

"AGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHH!"

Ron spun.

The girl was clawing at her face; twitching and groaning. She raised her hands up as if prostrating herself before them. She thrashed violently, screaming. To Ron's horror, her body banged against the wall and a bloodstain remained where her head had collided with the wood.

_She's going to break bloody her neck!_

Ron did the only thing he could think of that would help her. He sat down next to her, pulled her to his chest, and hugged her tightly, restraining her arms and legs. She was still thrashing against him, crying in pain with her eyes shut tight, but she wasn't hitting anything... so that was a plus.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE," he cried out to toffee-apple-stand girl who was rooted to the spot, her chocolaty eyes wide with shock and fear. "GO AND GET HELP!"

Toffee apple stand girl seemed to jump back to reality, nodded franticly at him, and ran off, taking the round-faced boy with her.

The girl in his arms began to thrash so violently that she rolled them off the bench and onto the floor.

_Merlin! She's not stopping. I… I think she's getting worse!_

Blood from her wound was flowing everywhere. Ron could feel it; hot and dripping down onto his neck. She was screaming so loudly and he too was starting to panic. He couldn't do anything; he was useless. He didn't even realize that he was sobbing along with her. "I DON'T KNOW… I DON'T KNOW HOW… I'M SORRY!"

Ron searched his brain desperately for anything that might help.

_What would Mum do? What... what would Dad do? Dad would... Dad would... right._

He reached around the girl and pulled her on top of him, grabbing both of her arms with just one of his. He reached up with the other arm, took the back of her head, and pulled it down to his shoulder. He leaned forward, put his lips to her ear, and whispered in the lightest voice he could manage, _"It's okay. Shhhh. Come back to me, yeah?"_

Over and over he whispered one of his father's favorite calming mantras to use on Ginny when she flew into a rage.

Over and over and over. _"Come back to me."_

And finally, _slowly_, the thrashing lost pace. Her arms snaked around his shoulders, holding tightly; holding him long after she had stopped seizing. Her head snuggled into his neck and eventually they began to breath in unison. When he breathed in, she breathed out. When he breathed out, she in.

It must have been several minutes that they lay there, their chests rising and falling together, before the girl sat back on her knees and opened her eyes. She pushed her hair back behind her ear.

"You brought me back. Th-Thank you."

_BLOODY HELL! The lightning bolt scar! The green eyes! I have her chocolate frog card! IT'S HARRIET BLOODY POTTER!_

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_She was lying on the grass with a large piece of faded newspaper that she had rummaged from the garbage bin. Around it were several broken crayons. Humming a tune from a TV show that she had heard from her cupboard the other day, she picked up the red crayon and started to draw._

_A shadow fell over her._

"_Whatchya doin?"_

"_Dwawin."_

"_Whatchya dwawin?"_

"_My pawens."_

"_But... Mummy said you didn' have any pawens."_

"_I don."_

"_Den how are you dwawin dem?"_

_The shadow became larger and a boy sat down beside her, resting his chin on her shoulder while watching her draw. After a moment or two, the boy picked up a green crayon and helped her to fill in the grass around the little house, in front of which stood three stick-people. When they were done, the boy pawed at her arm._

"_Hawwy? Will you dwaw me and my pawens?"_

"_I can help dwaw dem, Dudwey."_

"_Buh Hawwy…" he moaned pawing at her arm. "I wan you to dwaw for me!"_

"_Hey_ _dat dickles!"_

_The boy grinned and lunged at her, tickling her all over. She laughed and laughed._

"_DUDLEY! GET AWAY… DON'T TOUCH HER!"_

_The boy was wrenched away from her. She held out her hand, reaching for him, but in her hand... was her wand._

_There was a flash of green light._

_A boy held out his juicebox. She reached out to take it gratefully, but her wand was in her hand._

_There was a flash of green light._

_She was walking down a busy street and the large man pointed to a shop. He smiled kindly to her and waved as he walked away. She raised her arm to wave back, but her wand was in her hand._

_There was a flash of green light._

_A silver-haired boy stood on a stool. He held out his hand and she moved to shake it, but her wand was in her hand._

_There was a flash of green light._

_A small girl stood in front of her, beautiful amber eyes boring into her own. The girl hugged her tightly. And yet... when they separated, her wand was in her hand, tip pointed right at the amber-eyed girl's heart._

_There was a flash of green light._

_She walked up the stairs slowly, not bothering to rush, for she knew that her prey couldn't escape. There was a light on at the end of the hall. She entered the room. A woman stood in her path. She raised the wand._

_There was a flash of green light._

_Red eyes saw green eyes. Green eyes saw red eyes. Green eyes saw green eyes and red eyes saw red eyes. She looked down her arm at her wand, pointing down into her own face._

_There was a flash of green light._

"_AGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHH!"_

_Pain beyond pain. Heat beyond heat. She died. She died a thousand times and a thousand times again. She burned in the green fire. Her life flashed before her eyes._

_She was the old man lying at her feet. He was torn in two, trying to keep his stomach inside his body._

_She was the boy who stood alone, a knife dripping with blood. His parents and siblings surrounded him, throats slit and swollen. He raised the knife and plunged it into his own heart. He fell at her feet._

_Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmm mmmm. Sweet wonderful hums filled her ears. She reached out with her soul, but could not touch them._

_She was the girl, arms broken, naked, bound. Her love loomed above her. She pleaded with him; tried to reason with him. How could he do this? She screamed as he pummeled her; she screamed as he took her without love, his eyes blank and unseeing... without mercy. Beaten to her last breath, her heart slowing, her lungs filling with blood, she watched as her love died, skin melting off his bones. She slipped silently away as her cold, clammy hand brushed the hair from her face._

_She was the man, kneeling over his daughter, hands around her throat, watching the life drain away from her. She-_

"_Shhhhh. Come back to me, yeah?"_

_She was an infant, roasting in a towering inferno of flaming horses. She could feel-_

"_Hey. Come back to me."_

_She was a woman, watching her children torn and clawed by the hands of the dead. She-_

"_It's okay now. Come back."_

_The humming returned, wrapping around the angelic words. She reached out and grasped… something._

_Red eyes spun around her, closing in. A lifetime of rage and hate and pain._

"_Come back to me."_

_She felt arms on her skin. Not choking or beating... just holding._

_Red eyes._

"_Come back."_

_She felt a chest breathing._

_In. Out. In. Out._

Harry opened her eyes. She saw an ear... and Ginny's hair.

_No… it's not Ginny_.

It was a boy... and he was embracing her tightly. She wrapped her arms around the boy's shoulders and used his breathing to steady her own. She inhaled when he exhaled, exhaled when he inhaled. He smelled a bit like grass. It was nice.

She felt Alice tighten on her leg… as if to apologize. "_Thiss grasssy red human brought you back, Chica. I tried to ssoothe you… but could not."_

Harry didn't need the snake to tell her what he had done.

Leaning back onto her knees, she gazed intently into his sky blue eyes and smiled, tucking her hair back behind an ear to look at him better. "You brought me back. Th-Thank you."

Jaw dropping in shock, the boy pushed himself onto his elbows, staring at her incredulously as she sat between his legs.

"You... You're... You're Harriet Potter..." he stuttered after a stretching, dumbfounded silence.

He was ogling her scar and for the first time Harry found that she didn't care in the slightest. "Yeah, I am. Just Harry though."

Leaning down, her hair dancing on his face, she pulled him close and lightly kissed his cheek to better show her gratitude. Never having been allowed to kiss anyone, she reveled in the sensation and trailed a series of chaste kisses all along the boy's jawline, right down to his ear. Planting one last grateful peck on his ear lobe, she slumped against him, completely exhausted, breathing out her relief into his shoulder.

_"Really... _Thank you._"_

Harry could tell that he seemed to be getting over the shock that she was Harriet Potter. He now seemed considerably more shocked that she was lying on top of him.

"…Erm… no problem?"

He made to wiggle out from under her, but Harry held on for dear life.

"What's your name?" she asked in his ear.

"R-Ronald... " he muttered, attempting another futile wiggle to remove himself. "Ron Weasley."

_Ron? __Wait... __Ginny's brother? Well, the hair makes sense then. Ginny called him a prat, but he doesn't seem too bad._

Harry might have thought more on this had Ron not just saved her from whatever was at the end of that dream. He was warm and she couldn't stop herself from snuggling into his side. She knew it was a bit of an awkward situation, but she _needed_ this; she needed to be touched. Her body stung and hurt all over. She needed to be warm; she needed to be safe from the death and the horrible eyes.

_I just need a little comfort._

Scrunching his jumper in her hands, she pulled him closer. "You know, you're the second Weasley I've hugged in one day. I like Weasleys."

"Erm... I... wait... the second?"

Harry nodded into Ron's neck and muttered, "Ginny was right miffed at you."

"How do you know-" but he wasn't allowed to finish.

"AHEM!"

Startled, Harry gaped at the newcomer. The girl was taller than her, yet surely not as tall as Ron. She had a large bush of brown hair and her dark, chocolaty eyes were studying Harry intently with a mixture of disdain and curious interest. She was quite pretty... albeit having rather large front teeth that made her look like she was biting her lip.

"Oh… hello," said Harry nervously.

The girl raised an eyebrow.

A woman in a matron's outfit came bustling into the compartment, dragging a cart behind her. She kicked Ron's head by accident.

"Good Lord! What are you two doing on the floor? Oh never mind. Come on, deary... let's have a look."

Harry pulled Ron up with her and finally was able to let go of his jumper. She smoothed it down where her fingers had bunched it up thoroughly.

"Mmm mild concussion its looks like," said the nurse, dragging her wand around Harry's skull. When the wand tip passed over the cut on the back of her head, the flesh repaired itself with a disgusting little _slick_.

The matron tapped Harry's temple and she could suddenly think clearly. The nurse gave her cheek a little pat and asked, "So, dear... what happened?"

"I… I don't really know."

"She was asleep," mumbled Ron. "She was dreaming,"

The nurse lit her wand and held it up to Harry's eyes. "Mmmhmm. I thought you said she was screaming, love?" she asked the brown-haired girl.

Ron answered for her. "She… she _was_ screaming... and _thrashing_… and…" he trailed off, looking sadly at Harry.

"Tch Tch Tch... I see... _night terrors_. Much worse in magical folk than muggles. The magic makes them real for the body and it can be quite serious... _oh dear me._ You're only a first year! I've never seen a case so young…"

The nurse let out a great sigh, the foreboding sound of which Harry didn't like one bit.

"Well, I can give you some dreamless sleep potion for tonight of course, but I'd like you to visit the Headmaster after the sorting feast. He is most adept in dealing with magics of the mind. Here... a pepper up potion, a blood replenisher, as well as your dreamless sleep draught. They'll fix you right up."

Harry took the vials, tipped two back… and promptly spit them back out.

_BLEGH_

The nurse laughed, handing her two new vials. "That's everyone's reaction the first time, love." She smiled and bustled out.

Silence fell over the small cabin. Ron and the the brown-haired girl were sending her apprehensive looks... as if she was about to explode.

The disapproving girl was the first to speak. "Well then… I'm very glad you're alright." It seemed that she wanted to say more, but after a moment's hesitation, she turned and left Harry and Ron to themselves.

Ron plopped down onto the seat and sighed, hand over his eyes. "Blimey."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, examining the boy with curiosity. His bright red hair was shaggy, partly covering his blue eyes from view. His clothes… well, they were all a bit worn down, but they were well-kept and looked comfy enough... just like her dress. He had even more freckles than Ginny. All over his face and neck and arms... his arms. There was blood all over them; blood which she assumed was her own.

She sat down next to him and used the end of her already very bloody dress to wipe him off.

He raised his head, eyes giving her a thorough inspection. "You alright then?"

Harry shrugged. "Think so... thanks to you."

Ron's ears went pink. He tore his eyes from hers, mumbling weakly, "You should change out of that you know. It's covered in… well… its making me a bit queasy."

_He does look a bit green._

Harry nodded and stood. Ron made to get up too, heading in the direction of the door, yet when she tugged her dress over her head he leaped backwards with a surprised yelp.

**"OI!" **shouted Ron, falling into his seat, his hands and arms covering his eyes from view. **"WHAT ARE YOU _DOING?_"**

"I'm changing," said Harry obviously, pulling her Hogwarts robes from her trunk.

"**NOT… NOT…" **he spluttered incoherently. **"NOT** **WHILE I'M STILL HERE!"**

Harry giggled derisively as she stepped into her black skirt. "Oh... _right_. Well, that's very nice of you, Ron, but I really couldn't care about decency at the moment. Every nerve in my body is stinging. Besides… you didn't see anything, did you? Bet you didn't even get a look at my knickers before you acted all… well… _very nobly_. Noble Ron Weasley. My savior."

"**THAT'S COMPLETELY BESIDES THE POINT! AND… AND… WAS THAT A_ SNAKE _ON YOUR LEG?_"_**

"Oh, yes. That's Alice. Don't worry; she's a Boa Constrictor and they're not venomous. She likes to eat bananas. You can look now." She finished buttoning up her white Hogwarts blouse and pulled her robe over top. "Do you think you could you do this for me?" she asked, holding out her tie. "I've no idea how."

Ron's hands slowly fell to his side. His ears were pink and he was very tense. As he tied the tie around her neck, Harry noticed that every few seconds he would glance nervously at the hem of her skirt where the snake's coiled form was hidden. When he finished, he retreated hastily to the corner.

_I don't want my savior to be afraid of me, now do I? _

She lifted the hem of her skirt and held her hand out to Alice, who slithered onto her fingers.

When Harry moved to sit next to Ron, Alice started wiggling fiercely. "_Harry sspeaker! He hass them. Put me down. I want them!"_

Not daring to speak to Alice with Ron right in front of her, she placed the snake on the seat between them. The little reptile slid quickly up to Ron's leg and stuck its head in his pocket.

"HARRY! WHAT'S IT _DOING!_"

Now that she had calmed down, Harry could distinctly smell a bit of cinnamon in the air. "Erm... _Ron_, do you by chance have a sandwich in your pocket?"

"W-What?" he whispered. The boy was as white as a sheet and sitting stock still as the snake wiggled on him.

"A banana sandwich."

"Oh erm... _yeah_ I do, actually. Is... is that what it wants?"

She nodded. "I suspect so."

Alice hissed in protest as Harry dragged her out of the pocket.

Ron retrieved the sandwich out and placed it on the bench. "Go for it. I _hate_ these things."

"Really? Ginny gave me one and I thought they were wonderful!" Harry opened the sandwich, took the bananas out, mushed them up, and laid the results in front of Alice, who devoured them greedily.

"So… you've met my sister?" asked Ron, the corners of his lips actually twitching upwards at the snake's antics.

Harry put the marshmallowy bread back together and took a bite out of it, purring in delight. "Ohhh... _that's heavenly_... but... yeah. I met her at the station. She was…" Harry saw Ginny in her mind's eye, standing on a cart, asking for her trust.

_Amazing? The most wonderful person I've ever met?_

"… very nice," she finished plainly. "She was right ticked at _you_ though."

Ron grimaced, muttering meekly, "Erm... yeah. It's sorted now. I said I wasn't going to write to her, but… I changed my mind."

"Why wouldn't you write to her? She's your sister. If… If I had a little sister…"

"I know, I know," said Ron guiltily. "But like I said, it's sorted now. Hey... do you want to see my rat?"

Harry snorted and choked on a bit of bread. "Your _what?_"

"My rat… Scabbers." The redhead went to his trunk and pulled out a small cage containing a fat, ragged looking ball of fuzz. He held the cage out to Harry. "He doesn't do much; just sleeps. Most interesting thing about him is that he's missing a toe. I like to imagine that he lost it on some daring magical adventure... but... he probably just got caught in a mouse trap. He was my brother's rat, but now I've got him. I'm the youngest of seven apart from Ginny and… well... we all share everything just about. Don't… don't have much… well..."

Harry waved him off. "It sounds wonderful. I wish I had brothers."

Ron laughed. "No you don't. _Believe_ me!"

Harry didn't think Ron realized who he was talking to... which was nice. She smiled sadly at him and said in a very quiet voice, "But… I _do_, you know?"

Ron blushed scarlet at his mistake. "Oh... right. Sorry."

Harry shrugged and scratched the rat behind the ears as the silence stretched.

Seemingly trying to redeem himself, Ron asked her, "Well... erm... what's _your_ family like… I mean, your muggle family that is."

"The Dursleys?" she asked. "They're… well, it's a bit of a long story."

Ron smiled warmly. "I've got time."

Grinning, Harry proceeded to regale him with tales of her bulbous uncle, her whaleboy of a cousin, and her gossip hound of an aunt. They laughed and talked for hours.

When the discussion eventually turned to school and magic, Harry asked, "Ron... will I be behind the other students? Can you do magic already?"

"_Nah._ Though I do know one spell. Fred and George taught it to me. It'll turn Scabbers yellow. Want to see?"

Harry nodded rapidly and Ron pulled out his wand.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter-"

He was interrupted as the compartment door slid open.

The brown-haired girl had returned.

"Excuse me again. I meant to ask before. Have you seen Neville's… _Oh!_ Are you doing magic?" She had clearly seen the wand in Ron's hand and her eyes had widened with excitement. "Can you show me?"

The redhead seemed a bit hesitant to be performing in front of _two_ people, but he cleared his throat, pointed his wand at Scabbers, and said in a robust, overly-grandiose voice, "Sunshine, daisies, butter-mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!"

Scabbers squeaked weakly and fell asleep.

"Hmmm... are you sure that's a _real_ spell?" asked the girl, her skepticism obvious.

Ron's ears went pink again. "Well, Fred and George gave it to me so… not really, no."

"I've tried a few simple spells and they all worked for me. It was ever such a surprise to find out I was magical, but I was ever so pleased. Hogwarts is simply the best magical school around you see, or so I've heard. I want to do so well. I've learned all the course books by heart of course. I do hope it will be enough." The bushy-haired girl said all of this very quickly, very proudly, and in one enormous breath.

Ron was staring at the girl in a daze, his jaw slack.

Harry frowned at him.

_I memorized my textbooks too. Don't see me blowharding about it… well, History of Magic doesn't count._

She shivered with disdain for the tedious subject.

"I'm Hermione Granger. Do you know what House you'll be in? I _do_ hope I'm in Gryffindor." The brown-eyed girl stared at them expectantly.

"Oh... erm... Ron Weasley… and I dunno."

"Harry Potter."

"Oh _my_… are you really?" Hermione sat down next to her and pushed Harry's hair out of her face. Her large eyes were openly and avidly ogling her scar and it made Harry very, very uncomfortable. "You know I've read all about you, for background information of course. You're in Modern Magical History_, _The Rise and Fall of The Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events of the 20th century! Did you know that your Father lost his _eyes_ in his duel against You-Know-Who? _His eyes!_ Imagine a spell like that! How horrible!"

_Lost his... I don't think I like this girl._

Ron caught the angry look on her face and said in a stiff and heated voice, "Hermione was it? I don't think Harry here wants to talk too much about her father's corpse. Bit upsetting I expect."

Hermione sat back quickly, looking as if Ron had slapped her. "Well… well… _yes_… I suppose you're… _well_… very nice to meet you." She fled the compartment, face turning bright red.

"Thank you, Ron. But that was bit rough, don't you think?"

"Oh, well… I owed her one. Met her before at the station. Made me feel like a right dunderhead."

"Well, what if… what if she's in your House? You'll be in a pickle." Ron paled and Harry giggled. "So what House _do_ you want to be in?"

"Gryffindor. Definitely. My whole families been in it." Ron puffed out his chest and said, "It was Dumbledore's house."

"Is it good then?"

"_Good?_ It's the best! _Blimey_… I can't imagine what would happen if they put me in Slytherin though. I'd go bonkers."

Harry was taken aback. "Really? A friend of mine told me he wanted to be in Slytherin."

"WANTED TO… _wanted_ _to be in Slytherin?_ Are they _mad_? It's full of dark wizards and… and _muggle haters_."

"Draco didn't seem like that."

Ron shook his head. "Trust me, Harry, Slytherin is bad news. They say it was You-Know-Who's house."

_It can't be that bad. Maybe he... maybe he just wants me to be in Gryffindor... with him. _

Harry smiled happily to herself. After a lifetime without friends, it was the strangest thing to have suddenly have so many.

"Don't you have to put your robes on, Ron? It can't be far now."

Ron sat up from his lounging position. "Oh right… could you erm… you know?"

Harry giggled. "Oh I dunno. Eye for an eye?"

"_Harry!"_ groaned the boy miserably, turning pinker than ever.

She laughed and stood. And yet, as she slid open the compartment door, she hesitated to walk through. It felt wrong to simply... leave.

Turning slowly on the spot, she looked back.

Ron looked up and met her hard gaze with a questioning look.

"What? Have I... Have I got something on me?"

Harry shook her head, walked over, and slid her arms around his waist.

Ron froze. She didn't wan't him to pull away so she hugged him tightly, resting her cheek on his chest. As her weight pushed him backwards into the window, she whispered gratefully into his shirt, "Ron... it was just... _horrible_... the dream, I mean. So... thank you for... _you know... _bringing me back."

As the train jostled them softly, eventually, inch by freckled inch, Ron's body began to relax. She felt his chin sink into her hair and he finally hugged her back.

"Ye-Yeah. Anytime, Harry."

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She looked back at Ron standing in line. His sky-blue eyes sent her a concerned, questioning look.

_"Come now, girl. We don't have all day."_

Harry had been sitting on the stool for at least fifteen minutes, the tiny voice of the hat badgering her for a decision.

She glared at the Slytherin table.

_How could he have said such a thing? In the robe shop, he had seemed so kind…_

The blonde boy was looking away from her, seemingly uninterested in the sorting. But... he was sitting very still... _too still._

Ginny's face appeared before her mind's eye. '_And my mum always says that people that avoid looking at you are the ones paying you the most attention.'_

And then Ron's face. '_Ye-Yeah. Anytime, Harry.'_

And then Draco's. '_Because he's dirt poor!'_

"Ron was right," she whispered to the hat, blinking away angry tears of hurt and disappointment. "Not Slytherin. _Anything_ but Slytherin."

_"Well... if you're sure… better be…"_

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Draco sat in a large, green armchair, staring into the common room fire. Pansy was leaning against his leg, reading one of her many contrived romance novels.

He pulled out his wand and twirled it against the armrest.

Tap Tap Tap Tap

_Why had she…_

Tap Tap Tap Tap

_I didn't mean… well… I did mean…_

Tap Tap Tap Tap

"Draco…"

Tap Tap Tap Tap

_If she… I'll make her life a living hell..._

Tap Tap Tap Tap

Pansy sighed in exasperation and yanked the wand out of his grasp. He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "Stop being so moody. You're interrupting a very good scene."

"But she-"

"I know. You'll get her back for it. Don't worry."

He gazed blankly into the fire, glowering.

_Get her back for it…_

_Get her back…_

_I want to get her back…_

_I want her back._

**/FLASHBACK/**

Draco was in a very good mood. He had already managed to make two very large, very _bulky_ friends. Well… not friends really… more like bodygaurds.

He sniggered.

_I'm going to rule this school... just like Father did._

Vincent and Gregory cut a path for him through the crowd until he was right at the front of the first years milling to get onto the boats. A booming voice cried out, "Four ter a boat! Don't push!"

It was that disgusting giant from Diagon Alley.

He heard Pansy groan from behind him. "UGH! He actually _works_ here?"

Draco, Vincent, Gregory and Pansy all climbed into a boat.

They floated out onto the water and Pansy leaned back into his chest. "This is very _romantic_. Don't you agree, Draco?"

He scoffed… but one of his hands still found its way into her hair to play with the little blonde ringlets. She had always let him mess with her hair when they were on playdates at his mansion. It fascinated him; how it bounced and shone in the light. He _did_ care for her. She was his best friend after all. But her incessant tittering about romance always made him uneasy.

_Girls... _

"Pans, if you don't get into Slytherin... will your father really transfer you to Durmstrang?"

Pansy sighed softly. "That's what he says."

Draco twirled a ringlet around his finger. "I'll come with you, if you want me to.

Pansy said nothing, but her hand fell over-top his own on the rail of the boat.

Even though his father had taken him to see the castle before, he still drew a sharp intake of breath as it came into view over the water. Hundreds of twinkling lights were shimmering in the lake's reflection. It looked as if there were two castles, one above and one below.

A stern looking woman with a lantern awaited them at the shore. "Good evening students and welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will proceed up the front steps and congregate in the Entrance Hall. Walk promptly now. No mischief."

The Entrance Hall was enormous. Four giant hourglasses, filled with gemstones, stood on either side of what must have been the Great Hall. There were ghosts everywhere, one of which caught his eye. The specter gave him a slight nod, then shuffled off, chains clanking eerily behind him.

Draco avidly searched the crowd until he saw a familiar girl with long black hair talking to a ghost whose head was almost completely torn off.

"Hey! Hey Harry! Over here!"

She turned at her name and he waved at her.

___She looks much healthier. Must have put on fifteen pounds. Merlin_, what is that green? 

Harry let loose that brilliant smile of hers, ran over, and caught him up in a hug. Her magnificent hair rubbed on his cheek and he wrapped his fingers in it, just like he would Pansy's.

"Draco! It's good to see you!" She leaned up and planted a light kiss on his cheek. He couldn't have stopped his face from heating up even if he wanted to.

_She must have had a damn good train ride._

"I… erm… I tried looking for you on the train, but i couldn't find you. Did you hear that a girl at the back had some sort of sei-" Draco stopped short.

A tall, redheaded boy in shabby, secondhand robes was standing right behind Harry, looking interestedly in on what they had to say. Draco found this to be particularly annoying.

In the best imitation of his father's signature drawl that he had ever performed, Draco sneered and said, "_Yes?_ Can I help you, _Ginger_? If you're begging, well, I'm sorry to say that I left my money in my other robe."

He looked back at Harry, expecting to see her burst into a fit of laughter.

However... she _wasn't_ laughing... she wasn't even smiling. She was staring up at him with a slightly confused expression.

"Draco… this is-"

He cut her off and put his arm around her shoulder, spinning her around, thinking that maybe she hadn't gotten the joke because she hadn't seen this… _buffoon_. "Harry, look at the state of this chap, eh? He must roll with the pigs every morning. I… I bet you're a Weasley. My father told me all the Weasley's have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford. Now then… run along _Weasley_, you're not welcome here. Maybe I'll spare you a galleon tomorrow if you leave quickly."

Weasley looked ready to murder him. He laughed and snapped his fingers. Greg and Vincent stepped up behind him.

"Walk away. I can really make you-"

Draco staggered as Harry threw his arm violently off of her shoulder. "Harry? What's wrong?"

_Why isn't she laughing?_

Harry stepped away and glared daggers at him. "Draco? Is this some sort of _joke?_ What are you on about?"

Confused, he folded his arms and asked, "What do you mean?"

It was right at that moment that Pansy came running up to him and whispered, "Draco! You won't _believe_ what I just heard. That giant, the oaf, Hargidge or whatever… Draco… he lives in a _shack!_ What a savage!"

Harry's eyes darkened.

"Draco, who's this?" asked Pansy, gesturing towards the black-haired girl and clutching his arm protectively. "Is she bothering you?"

Harry stalked forward, her green eyes flashing, and pushed Pansy aside. She thrust her finger into his chest, glaring murderously at him. "Tell me you're joking."

_Joking? __I'm completely lost._

"Joking about what?"

The girl in front of him seemed to lose control. Somehow, even though she was shorter, she was towering above him; her stature did nothing to diminish her presence. "ABOUT… ABOUT WHAT? ABOUT YOU BEING…"

Harry clearly lost the words she was looking for in her rage. She just stood there, huffing angrily.

Weasley came up behind her and said, "It's okay, Harry. It doesn't matter. Let it go."

But Harry ignored him. "Draco. What makes _you_ better than Ron? What makes him so incredibly _inferior_ to you?"

_This isn't going well. Tell the truth. _

"Well… because his family is bunch of muggle-lovers obviously. And come on, _Harry_, look at his clothes... because he's dirt poor!"

**_SLAP_**

His head spun painfully and he fell to the floor from the surprising strength of the blow.

Pansy screamed.

Cradling his cheek, Draco stared up in shock at the small girl that had sent him flying. She was enraged, her green eyes stormy and narrowed. Her face was flushed and her hair blew around her in a fierce wind that stemmed from nowhere. When she spoke her tone was colder than ice.

"And are you better than _me,_ Draco? I've been in the poorhouse since I was born. Throughout my _entire _life, I've only had _one_ piece of clothing that fit. I ate crackers for breakfast and cold soup for dinner."

_What? How is that possible? _

"You're not poor, Harry! I saw your Gringott's bag! They only give those to-"

She shrieked in disgust and delivered a fierce kick to Draco's shin. "FOR ELEVEN YEARS I GREW UP WITHOUT THAT VAULT; WITHOUT MY _FAMILY!_ I LIVED IN A CUPBOARD, YOU… BIGGOTED _PONCE!_"

Weasley stepped in again and took hold of Harry's arm, dragging her backwards. "Harry stop… please-"

"NO, RON! GET OFF! I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!" She stomped towards Draco, but Weasley grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off her feet. She screamed and kicked the air wildly, crying. Weasley held her tight, whispering in her ear.

She stopped kicking. She stopped crying. She stopped screaming. Her hair stopped blowing. She leaned back into Weasley's arm, breathing heavily.

"Come on, Harry. Let's go." Weasley tugged on her arm and without another word, she disappeared from Draco's sight.

He lay there on the floor, staring at the spot she had just vacated.

_She… she… well!_

Pansy knelt next to him and stroked his hair. "Draco? Who was that _terrible_ girl?"

Before he could answer, the stern woman came bustling into the Entrance Hall. "First Years! Line up please! That means you as well, Mr. Malfoy! Up!"

The Hat sang its song; something about the founders. He didn't care. He was angry. He wanted to punch something that was cute and fluffy.

_How dare she speak to me like that? I'm a Malfoy! Who is she to HIT me? Hit me like some filthy muggle. Well she'll pay... Weasley too._

Yet as he fumed, he couldn't help but think of her dark, messy hair blowing around her, her entrancing green eyes wide with anger.

_Damn. What is that green?_

"Malfoy, Draco." He walked up to the Sorting Hat, not even thinking about where he wanted to go, still fuming over Harry.

_She was supposed to be my friend..._

"SLYTHERIN."

Draco sat down at the table, ignoring the cheers of his fellow Slytherins. He glared a whole into his plate as the hat went through several more names before getting to the P's.

"Parkinson, Pansy."

"SLYTHERIN" Pansy sat at his side, looping her arm through his.

_Well, thank god for that._

"Patil, Padma."

"RAVENCLAW."

"Patil, Parvati."

"GRYFFINDOR."

"Perks, Sally-Anne."

"HUFFLEPUFF."

"Potter, Harriet."

The hall went silent and he looked up in shock.

_No... that's not... __Oh Merlin._

Harry was indeed walking forward.

_No... it CAN'T be! How did I not see that?_

She put the Hat on her head... but nothing happened. She just sat there... staring at... _him_.

Draco looked away purposefully and did not dare raise his head again, for he could feel her eyes on him. This must have gone on for twenty minutes.

"GRYFFINDOR," the Hat finally shouted.

The room exploded with cheers as her tie and crest turned red.

Draco put his head down on his plate and moaned.

/**END FLASHBACK**/

_I want her back._

Tap Tap Tap Tap

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_Phoenixes. Such amazing creatures._

Albus Dumbledore was having the most engaging night. He had discovered that every time he shot blue sparks from his wand, Fawkes would sing a high note, and every time he shot out red sparks, he would sing a low note. He had developed quite an amusing game trying to trip him up.

Fawkes, however, had yet to miss a note.

He shot off a large burst of yellow sparks.

The phoenix sent him a look that quite clearly said, '_Nice try.'_

"Ahh, quite right, old friend."

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Do come in, Harry."

The heavy oak door swung outward and in walked Lily Potter... well, Lily Evans at age eleven… with James Potter's hair.

"Good evening, Harry. I see that Hagrid was most astute in his description of you. You do look remarkably like your mother. Would you care for a Lemon drop?"

He held out the bowl of the wonderful little candies he had discovered while vacationing in Bermuda.

_Well… the Bermuda Triangle… well… Atlantis. No matter._

"Oh, no thank you, sir. I had about six treacle tarts."

"Ah yes, quiet so… you must watch out for those. They are a favorite amongst many students and thus, a prime target for many pranks from a certain pair of mischievous twins." He rested his hands underneath his chin and looked down at the diminutive girl. "Now… Harry… let us discuss the reason you came to see me tonight."

Harry nodded gravely and he continued. "I was alerted that there was a rather serious event on the train regarding your health, but I was not informed as to the details of said event. Would you care to enlighten me?"

"Oh… right. I… I had a dream."

"A dream that resulted in your need for medical attention?"

"Oh... yes… Headmaster Dumbledore, sir. I hit my head you see, and-"

"No extensive explanation needed, Harry. Madame Pomfrey has explained your situation as well. And please, it is 'Professor.' 'Headmaster' seems much too stuffy for a young man like myself." He chuckled and winked at the girl, who smiled widely in return. "Now... I believe that you have developed a case of what I like to call 'The Petrifying Dream.' In muggle culture, it is referred to as night terrors, which is quite simply a rare case of rather intense nightmares that cause physical reactions. In wizards however, our magic, which is directed by the brain, makes those manifestations real. It creates an experience which our actual bodies live through; an experience that we cannot wake from until it is ended. In your case, given your violent reaction, I think it best if I know what the dream was before we proceed. Do you think you would be able to describe it for me, Harry?"

The girl paled and shook her head no.

"I see. Well... do you think you would be able to let me view it directly?"

"View it… directly, sir?

"Yes… I am what we call a 'Legillimens.' With a simple spell, I may walk through your mind as if it is a corridor, viewing your memories as open doors that I pass by. I must warn you, however, that dreams are buried _deeply_ in the subconscious. Thus, I would first need to view your entire memory to reach them. Would you allow this, Harry? To allow me into your mind?"

Harry shrugged. "Alright, sir."

"Very brave of you, Harry. The Sorting Hat chose your house well. Many would refuse simply because they have things to hide… memories they want no one to see." Albus looked pointedly at her.

"We'll… there is one thing, sir… that I'd rather hide."

"Then might I suggest you imagine placing the memory or memories which you would hide behind a closed door in your mind. I will see the door and out of courtesy, walk past it. We could indeed do this for all your memories, but Occulumency, which is essentially closing and locking each door, takes years to learn, and thus we would be here for a very long time. Instead, we are simply closing one door until I pass by it. Do you think you can do this, Harry?"

The girl nodded and asked, "What do I have to do, sir?"

"Nothing at all, Harry. You will feel me inside your mind. I am known to have a very light touch, but you still may find it... a tad intrusive."

Harry's eyes set determinedly and she said, "I… I think I'm ready, sir."

_No one is ever ready my dear child... you will relive it all._

He walked around his desk and wandlessly conjured a small armchair directly in front of the girl's. Sitting down, he withdrew his wand and placed it against her temple. Hesitating, he asked, "Are you _quite_ sure you wish to go through with this, Harry? It would be far easier to describe it."

"Y-Yes, Professor."

She seemed resolute.

"Very well… _Legillimens."_

He moved through the spiraling corridor at a lightning swift pace, absorbing the images flashing all around him. Green light. Images of a girl being chased and beaten by three boys; images of a dark room and a small girl lying on a moldy cot; images of a woman's hands being torn out of her grip; images of a man's hands striking a girl on the cheek.

_There is the door._ _Well done, Harry._

Surprisingly, he heard her reply, '_Thank you, sir.' _

Images of a giant man with a kind smile. Images of a silver haired boy, a redheaded girl and boy. Then, it was if he had passed through a veil of mist.

_He saw himself holding his wand in his hand. And he killed. And killed again. Again and again. Red eyes. Green eyes. A flash of green light. Pain... blinding pain, white hot and burning. Dead bodies, murders, a voice calling out to him. 'Come back to me.' Red eyes._

And then... the scene shifted_. _

_Gellert was behind him on the soft bed, arms wrapped tightly around his chest, thrusting slowly and surely into him. He was on fire, panting heavily as the blonde boy gripped his member and-_

_Aberforth stood in front of the grave, eyes blazing. "ITS YOUR FAULT! YOU KILLED HER! YOU AND THAT FREAK! I'LL NEVER FORGIVE-"_

_"INCENDIOS GRATA!" The last of the Divine Reich Sorcerers was disintegrated in a mighty blast of fire. He rounded the corner at full speed and found himself standing in front of the large black gate. **ARBEIT MACHT FREI**_. _The cold, steel letters mocked him as he beheld his once friend, surrounded by the emaciated bodies of the dead. The man turned to face him, opening his arms wide in welcome._

"_It is time to end this, mein liebster!_ _Gekommen worden zu mir; taste the power of the Elder Wand! The Deathstick! With it I cannot be defeated!_

"_That is true, Gellert. I admit, my defeat seems inevitable, for I know in my heart that I would not be able to kill you."_

"_Then why fight at all, Albus?" The blond man turned from him and stared at the words above the wrought iron gate. "You who shared my dream? Why do you fight?"_

"_Because it has gone too far. Because we were wrong… EXPELLIARMUS!" He caught the wand deftly. Gellert turned and smirked at him._

"_You will destroy our dream, Albus? You will destroy the greater good?"_

"_No my love. I will renew it."_

"_BUT YOU CANNOT! AS LONG AS I LIVE, THERE WILL BE THOSE TO CARRY OUT OUR WORK!"_

"_No, Gellert, your puppet leader is dead. I found his hideaway, broke through the wards you placed around his bunker, and killed him myself. The hitwizards and allied muggle forces are storming Berlin as we speak."_

_The blonde man's face contorted with rage. He withdrew yet another wand, screamed his defiance, and lunged at-_

Albus gasped and slumped against the side of the armchair.

The girl in front of him was crying, bright green eyes wide and locked onto his own. "Sir! I'm so sorry! I… I couldn't stop… I… I…"

He held up a hand and she abruptly closed her mouth. Composing himself took more than several minutes.

_She penetrated my mind; broke through iron clad walls by simply walking through the door._

"You… Harry… I believe you may just be the most remarkable young woman I have ever met in my life."

"Professor, I'm so-"

"It is quite alright, Harry. I have just learned the hard way that a door, once opened, may be stepped through in either direction." He smiled as kindly as he could, yet he was still reeling from the memories he had shut away, so he was sure the smile did not reach his eyes.

Harry caught on to this and her charmingly angelic face became hidden beneath her raven-black hair.

"Harry... I think that we are both in desperate need of a Lemon Drop." He picked up a candy from his desk and placed it in her limp hand. "Please... eat it. It will do you good." He popped one into his mouth.

_Ah... calming draughts. Most ingenious, Severus. _

Harry did the same and collapsed into the back of the chair, sighing deeply.

"Professor… who-"

"Just a man I once knew, Harry; a man who… lost his way." He tried to convey as lightly as he could that this was not a topic they would be discussing tonight. "Now… firstly, I believe an apology is in order, Harry. I myself placed you on the Dursley's doorstep all those years ago. You have suffered a great deal at their hands and for that… for that, my dear girl, I am truly sorry. And yet... I must stress that it was necessary; a necessary evil to protect a young girl from the dangers of our war-torn world. And it is _still_ necessary that you return to them each summer."

She frowned bitterly. "I didn't think I'd have to go back, sir. Can't I stay here at the school?"

"It is necessary that you return to them, Harry, but I think… no… I am sure, that the protections placed around you and your family will recharge before summer's end. You will be able to leave every July on your birthday."

"I… I understand, sir. Thank you."

"Now, back to the matter at hand. I believe that a possible cause of the first part of your dream is that you are afraid of using your magic. I wish for you to tell me why."

"Well, because… because my wand… it came from the same phoenix-"

"That donated a feather to Lord Voldemort's wand?" he interrupted.

She looked surprised.

"Do not hesitate to say the name, Harry. Such fear grants undeserved power to the owner."

She nodded slowly.

"Ollivander wrote to me saying that, at last, the brother wand had chosen _you _as its wielder. Harry, you must understand that it is neither a wizard's wand, nor a wizard's magic, that makes them turn to darkness. It is what they choose to do with that wand. Voldemort's wand core was taken from the tail of a creature of great good and kindess. This creature in fact." Albus gestured towards Fawkes. "And yet, he _chose_ to perform with his wand unspeakable acts of evil; acts that twisted his very being. You must not be afraid of your magic, Harry. Embrace it… and _choose_ to perform good."

"Ye-Yes sir."

However, the girl did not look convinced.

Sighing and scratching his beard, Albus continued. "As to the flashes of just a few of Lord Voldemort's many murders, I cannot understand why you saw what you did. I can merely speculate. Perhaps he is reaching out to you."

"He… He's still alive then?"

"Quite so, dear girl. I am sure of it. Voldemort fears his death above all else. I do not believe he would have started a war against the world unless he knew somehow that he would not die… Yet that too is only speculation. What I do know is that your experiencing the Petrifying Dream every night as you fall asleep is something that neither you, nor I, could bear. Therefore, I suggest this. There is a remote form of Occlumeny that I myself have developed. It is not a method of shielding yourself from others. A Legillimens could as easily walk through it as if it did not exist. It is rather a method of organization and focus. It consists of choosing one memory... a happy memory... and immersing yourself fully into it before you sleep. The memory will shield your mind to prevent dreams."

The girl frowned. "I don't think I have too many happy memories, sir…"

Albus smiled. "No? Might I suggest your experience with young Miss Weasley this morning? It seemed to be a very bright one as I passed it by."

"Oh... erm... yeah. I... I suppose that could… _work_."

He watched with amusement as her cheeks tinged red.

_Ah, well, love knows no boundaries. _

"Very well, Harry. I would like you to return to me every night this week and I shall teach you the method. Madam Pomfrey will supply you with Dreamless Sleep potion in the meantime. And now… I relinquish you from an old man's wheezing. You may return to Gryffindor tower; I believe the password is Caput Draconis."

"Thank you, sir." She got up to leave, pushing her hair back behind her ear as she did so. She was almost to the door when she turned around and said sadly, "Sir… I'm… I'm sorry about your friend."

Albus nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Harry. Oh… and just one last thing. Should you slap or kick Mr. Malfoy again, make sure that neither I, nor any of my colleagues, are around to witness the event. We would be forced to take away house points."

He winked at her and was rewarded with a small, sheepish grin.

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Hermione was in a state of complete and utter bliss. The bathroom was absolutely enormous. It had four shower stalls, four baths, four toilets, and four sinks. The baths themselves were large, ornate, and sank down into the floor. She played with the bubbles on the surface of the steamy water.

_Gryffindor. I can't believe it! Dumbledore's House_. _I can't… Just wait until I tell Mum! She'll be ever so pleased._

The bathroom door opened. Well... it must have because she could suddenly hear Parvati and Lavender's loud, gibbering voices echoing from their room.

"And did you see her hair? Its like a wild shrub!"

They cackled.

_I CAN HEAR YOU! Bints. Ohhhhh they are going to be the worst roommates. Prattling on about makeup and such. I bet they won't even do their homework._

She saw feet padding beneath the stalls and Harry came around the corner.

_Oh no. I forgot about… on the train…_

"Oh… hello, Hermione," greeted Harry, her tone stiff.

"Hello, Harry." Hermione watched quietly as the black haired girl strode to the tub farthest from her and turned away. She started to undress and ugly jealously reared in Hermione as she did.

_How can anyone have skin that perfect? A face that perfect? Hair that perfect? It's just not fair. She's going to be the one every boy drools over. _

Hermione remembered the girls in upper school; the pretty ones that all the older boys had ogled. None of them had a face like Harry's.

The black-haired girl pulled off her shirt. Hermione saw that Harry, like herself, wasn't packing anything up top, unlike Lavender who seemed to already have a medium-sized swell in her bosom. When Harry stepped out of her skirt, Hermione let out a loud gasp.

_What in God's name is that! It's looks like chainmail! Rips all over; are… are those safety pins?_

Harry had heard her and turned. "What?" she said simply.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but what… _what is_ _that_?" asked Hermione, pointing at Harry's middle.

"They're my knickers obviously," replied Harry, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Why?"

"But Harry, they're… they're _horrid!_"

"Yeah? _Horrid_ are they?" spat the girl angrily, pointing towards the door, her voice rising in a threatening crescendo. "First _them_... now _you_. I'm _so_ interested in what you think of the only pair of knickers I have. Please, go on. In fact, why don't you tell me some more about my Dad's corpse, or better yet, _why don't you shut your fat mouth?_"

"Oh Harry, that's not-"

"Get bent, Hermione," said Harry, cutting her off and turning away sharply.

Hermione thought it wise not to make the situation any worse by protesting.

Harry pulled off the undergarments, stepped into the tub, and didn't say another word to her. They bathed in silence, Harry with her back turned. Every so often, she would see the black-haired girl duck beneath the water and reemerge, giggling to herself.

_I have to make her understand… I wasn't trying to…_

"Harry," Hermione whispered tentatively, "about what I said on the train; I'm just very curious you see and well-"

Harry didn't turn to face her as she interrupted and hissed, "I don't _care!_ Why won't you just leave me alone?"

And that was that.

Harry finished washing, got out, and gathered up her things. She wrapped a towel around herself and quickly left the bathroom.

_Well done, old girl. If I don't fix this, I won't have a single friend in our year. Neville is afraid of me. Dean and Seamus are intimidated. Although that one boy… Ron. He might talk to me. _

_'Not if he's friends with Harry,' _said a jealous little voice at the back of her mind.

She sighed wistfully.

_Who would choose me over Harry Potter?_

Hermion spent an hour, soaking in the tub, thinking. When she returned to the dorm room, she found that Parvati and Lavender were asleep, but Harry was sitting up in bed with her lamp on. She had on a very ragged nightie that was tattered, ripped, and frayed. She was reading The Standard Book of Spells: Year 1, while petting the little snake Hermione had seen her with on the train.

_I guess she's already read her books then. She's just skimming. A like mind! We have something in common… and __I don't mind snakes. __They're very interesting creatures. Plenty of medicinal purposes. The southern Ouomi tribe use snake venom to… Goodness... __I really do have to stop giving myself lectures in my head. __Ohhhh... __I really want this to work... _

"What's it's name, Harry? The snake?"

"Why do you care?" Harry didn't look up from her book as she pulled her four-poster's curtains shut.

_Bugger. How can I fix- _

An idea washed over her; and idea that was a stroke of genius.

_I bet she did! I bet Mum packed them!_

She ran to her trunk, pulled it open, and dug around until she found what she was looking for. As an afterthought, she pulled out a nice pair of blue pajama bottoms and one of her father's soft t-shirts that he had given her to sleep in. Walking over to Harry's bed, she wrenched open the curtains and sat down on the edge.

Harry glared furiously at her. "_Excuse me!_ What do you think you're-"

Hermione interrupted quickly. "Here. I want you to have these." She stuffed an unopened bag of rolled-up green underwear into Harry's hands, along with the pjs and T-shirt. "You look about my size... so everything should fit. My mother always buys an extra bag of knickers for me when we go traveling. I think she still believes her little baby is going to wet the bed."

Harry's eyes flashed dangerously. "I don't want your-"

Hermione cut her off again. "No! Shut up and _listen_ to me! I'm _sorry_ for what I said on the train. It was cruel to you and… and… I'm just a very curious person. To me, you were something I could question and observe to learn more about this world. I'm a Muggleborn you see. And in the bathroom just now… I was just very shocked to see that. They looked terrible and I can't imagine they must be pleasant to wear. So please... just take them. Even if you hate me, just take them... as an apology."

Harry gaped at her, her lips parted slightly in an 'o'. Eventually she gathered herself enough to say, "You know... you said all that in one breath. That can't be healthy."

"Oh… yes… I… I do that sometimes." She nodded back towards Parvati and Lavender's beds. "Listen… I have a gut feeling that neither of us will get along very well with those two, so I'd like to try and… I'd like to try and be friends with you. I've… I've never had many friends and well… I saw you skimming your textbook. I… I do the same thing you see. I'd like to get to know you. It would be nice to at least have someone that's civil with me, but if you're too upset about what I said before I understand. So… so… just think about it."

With that said, Hermione got up, put on her pajamas, and crawled into her own bed, tugging the curtains shut. She lay there for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, listening to Lavender snore like a squealing rabbit. She was almost asleep when she heard the crackling of plastic and much shuffling. She heard feet padding towards her bed. Harry opened the curtains and crawled in, sitting Indian-style next to her feet. She was wearing the shirt, the pjs, and, Hermione assumed the knickers as well.

Neither of them spoke.

Eventually Harry pawed at her foot and said, without looking up, "Thank you for the clothes, Hermione. That was really nice of you. They… They feel wonderful. I'm sorry I was so mad at you. It's just, what you said about my dad on the train; that… that he lost his… It just upset me so much to learn that he didn't… didn't die well. And you're right. Those knickers _were_ horrid. I would… I often wake up bloody because the pins pop open."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "I would have been angry with me too."

She noticed that Harry was rubbing her little snake's chin and it seemed to be thoroughly enjoying itself.

"What's its name then?" she asked curiously.

"Alice. I… found her in the garden."

"_Really?_ She looks like a jungle snake." Hermione held out her hand and the snake coiled up her arm.

"Oh wow, " said Harry, smiling privately at the snake as if they had just shared a joke. "She likes you a lot."

"I like snakes too, I suppose. I've read quite a bit about them in my zoology books. They're very interesting creatures. Plenty of medicinal purposes. Did you know that the southern Ouomi tribe medicine men use snake venom to cure fever?"

Harry shook her head, but actually seemed interested in what she had to say... which was a first.

As Alice the Snake slithered around and around Hermione's tricep, Harry whispered under her breath, "I heard what they said about your hair." She nodded back towards Lavender and Parvati. "They were giggling at my nightie and Alice as well. Mean little bints."

_Oh. __A like mind indeed. __I like her already._

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Severus Snape stared bleakly around his classroom of Gryffindor and Slytherin first years.

_Bunch of snotty-nosed brats. I do hate this job._

In the most menacing voice he could muster, he hissed softly "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly-simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes; the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death- if you aren't as big a-"

**SNORE**

A deadly silence fell over the room.

_Who dares?_

A black-haired girl had her head in her arms at the back of the class. She sat between a brown-haired girl and a gangly redheaded boy. The brown-haired girl seemed petrified that his glare was upon them and she nudged the sleeping girl sharply in the ribs. The girl grunted. She nudged again and the offending girl woke violently, shouting, "TREACLE TART!"

The class burst into laughter. While he would have normally put an instant stop to the commotion, this time he found that he simply couldn't manage it as he stared, transfixed at her face.

_Lily? … no… Ten years since she… It must be…_

"_Potter," _he whispered silkily.

_They look… oh Lily… why him… you were mine for so long… and then…_

But Severus knew what had happened. He had called her… _that_... and she had never forgiven him.

_She went and shacked up with that ponce and produced this… abomination. Potter's hair on her beautiful face. Disgusting. _

He took the girl's disheveled appearance in. She seemed to be dazed by sleep and her eyebrows and robes were singed.

"Yes… Harry Potter… our new _celebrity. _Tell me, Potter, does this room look like a dormitory?"

The brown-haired girl next to her called out loudly before Potter could answer. "Please sir! It's the sleeping potion. She-"

"_SILENCE. _Well, Potter?"

"No, sir."

Severus smirked vindictively. "Well then... you must know everything there is to know about potions… since you feel the need to sleep in my classroom. Just as arrogant as your father."

"No, sir. I just..." Potter trailed off. She seemed to be angry at the jibe.

_Good. Now... m__ake a fool out of her._

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

The brown-haired girl's hand shot up like lightning, yet Potter remained silent.

He sneered.

_Got you._

_"Tut Tut_ – clearly fame isn't-"

"The Draught of Living Death, sir." She was staring right at him, Lily's eyes blazing with a triumphant look.

_What? _

He tried again. "Potter, tell me, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

The brown haired girl's hand shot into the air, but Potter calmly answered, "The stomach of a goat, sir."

The class began to titter.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Potter looked at him, then at the brown-haired girl who was standing up, waving her hand in the air.

"They're the same plant, sir... it also goes by aconite. But you really should ask Hermione a question too, sir. She wants to answer more than I do."

"_Potter.._." he breathed angrily. "_What does Golpalott's Third Law state about poison antidotes?_"

She glared at him. "That's not in the First Year textbook, sir. Maybe you've _forgotten_, but Magical Drafts and Potions only covers Golpolott's First Law, which states that the potency of any potion is dependent upon the motion the brewer uses to stir, as well as the heat of the flame upon which the potion sits. "

_How dare she… she… Lily's eyes and… and her mind. Damn you, Potter. You took this child away from me. She was supposed to be mine._

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter. Well... why aren't you all copying the answers down?

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**Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page. Contains some NSFW content.**

**Questions are answered on the review board.**

**Looking for someone to beta- Grammar Specific**

_Yes, Harry is more intelligent and more talented than canonHarry. __She's Lily Potter's daughter after all.__ However, as you'll soon see, she's nowhere near the point of a Powerful!Harry or a Mary-Sue that can do everything and anything. I've simply always thought that canonHarry got the short end of the stick and I wanted to do something to change that._


	5. Chapter 4: I Heard She Blew Up a Toilet

If you've never read _A Sound of Thunder_by Ray Bradbury go check it out. It's a wonderful story about the butterfly effect and you'll remember it for the rest of your life.

Harry/ginny fluff inc letters and Christmas. Just you wait until I get to CoS. Fluff ahoy!

**Check my profile for a link to fan-art page.**

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Beta'd by Osma77

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**Chapter 4: I Heard She Blew Up a Toilet.**

_Perhaps only a soft breath, a whisper, a hair, pollen on the air, such a slight, slight change that unless you looked close you wouldn't see it._

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_**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**_

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown._

_Gringotts' goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

_"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Harry threw down the article on Hagrid's wide six-legged table, jumped up in shock, and shouted, "HAGRID!"

Ron, who had just taken a bit of tea, squealed loudly at the sudden movement and threw his teacup into the air in surprise.

Harry understood why he was so jumpy. Fang, Hagrid's monstrous dog, had been sniffing Ron intently from the second he walked in the door.

Chuckling gruffly, Hagrid wiped the flung tea from his beard . "I told yah, Ron, Fang's right harmless. A big ruddy coward as well. He won't hurt yah one bit. Probably smells an animal or summat."

Ron was just about to offer a reply, but Harry could no longer hold in her excitement. "_Hagrid!_ The break in was on the same day we went to Diagon Alley! To Gringotts! Hagrid, _we emptied_ vault seven hundred thirteen! _The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day!_ That… that little package you got for Professor Dumbledore; do you think they were after it?"

She paced a hole into the hard wood floor, her thoughts whirling.

_I bet they were. They must have been._

When Hagrid answered, he didn't quite meet her eyes. "Ohh o'course not, `Arry." The giant reached across the table and offered her another rock cake with a circuitous look in his eye.

Harry politely declined.

_I must have broken three teeth already._

She got the suspicion that Hagrid was hiding something, because he immediately began prompting them to leave. "You two better be gettin back ter the castle. Gettin' a bit dark. I'll get me lantern."

Ron stopped his rather unsuccessful attempt to bite down on a cake and waved the giant off. "Nah, don't bother, Hagrid. We can do _Lumos_! Oh… well… _I_ can do _Lumos_," he added with a quick look to Harry.

Harry folded her arms and glowered at him. "_Thanks,_ Ron. Rub it in."

Ron laughed. "Oh come off it, Harry. You nearly blew up Professor Flitwick and I'm dead sure that Quirrell's iguana will never grow back its tail. You have it out for the teachers, don't you? Make way, Hogwarts! Dark Lord Potter coming through! Make way! Ma-" He stopped his jovial ribbing as she involuntarily winced at the words. "H-Harry? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, Ron," she interrupted quickly. "You just…"

_You just hit a little close to home._

"Whenever I try to do a spell, it's like I see…" She trailed off again, trying to block out the horrific images of the mangled bodies that flashed before her eyes.

_I see Ginny die. And then I see you die. And then Hermione. And Hagrid… and… Draco. And I'm the one holding the wand that did it._

Ron's expression turned to that of concern as he asked slowly, "You alright, Harry? We could go to Madame Pomfrey if you feel sick."

She smiled weakly at him and found his crystal-blue eyes boring into her. "No… No, I'm fine, Ron."

Ron didn't seem convinced, but he blinked his concern away. His goofy smile returned with a vengeance. "We'll then, let's go get some dinner. I'm bloody starving! Oh… erm… no offense, Hagrid."

The giant man guffawed. "None taken. I do make em a bit chewy I s'pose. I remember yer brother Charlie broke his jaw trying ter get through one. Always liked Charlie, I did."

Harry was extremely grateful the subject had changed. "Alright then. I told Hermione I'd meet her in the Entrance Hall as well. She said she was going to go check out the Library. I bet it's marvelous!"

"You said you'd _meet_ her?" asked Ron with an incredulous look on his face. "_Really_? She seems like a right nightmare! Didn't you see her in Potions? And the way she lectures to me? It's like she thinks I'm a total buggering idiot."

"Oh come on, Ron. She's very nice, just a bit… blunt."

_Yes... that's definitely the right word._

Ron grimaced, put his arm around her shoulders, and said with a shrug, "If you say so. Now, come on, mate. Dibs on all the treacle tart."

Harry punched him in the arm and sped off out the door ahead of him, yelling back, "Not if I get there first! See you, Hagrid!"

Laughing heartily, Ron chased after her.

Dinner was a bit of an awkward affair for Harry. With Hermione on her left and Ron on her right, she tried to maintain two conversations at once.

_I wish they weren't so bloody untoward with each other. Then again, everyone seems to be untoward with Hermione. I certainly was._

As Hermione started in on Ron about his eating habit, the redhead tore into her with plenty of uncouth language.

_Oh shut it, the both of you._

Harry ate as quickly as she could, excused herself, and rushed to Professor Dumbledore's office, relieved to be away from the bickering. "Crunchy Cauldrons," she mumbled to the imposing statue that blocked the passage.

The Gargoyle sprang aside and she was allowed entrance to the moving spiral staircase. As the stairs drew her closer to the top, Harry was surprised to hear arguing voices echoing down from the room above.

"Albus!" pleaded a male voice. "It needs to be kept safe! You can't just put it in a… _Albus,_ you are the only person I know strong enough to keep it from our pursuers. Why can't you just keep it here with you?"

"I promise you, Nicolas, it will remain untouched. The enchantments that I place will not allow anyone that wishes to use it, to retrieve it."

"I hope you're right. Perenelle and I… we're… we're not ready damn't! We need more time! _I_ need more time… I… I can't say goodbye to her yet."

"Nicolas, my friend, you know better than I that it is not goodbye, but merely a temporary parting. I believe, however, that we must discuss this some other time as our conversation is no longer private. Come in, Harry."

The tall middle-aged man that Dumbledore had been speaking to turned to face her and Harry stopped in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt. "Sir, would it be better for me to come back some other time?"

Dumbledore beckoned her forward. "Of course not, dear girl. Harry, I would like you to meet Mr. Nicolas Flamel, Headmaster of the Institute for Experimental Alchemy, Grandmaster Sorcerer of the 7th circle, Supreme Warlock, Grand Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and my very good friend."

Flamel waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Meaningless titles, Albus. All except the last."

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes… _quite_."

Harry noticed something very odd about the man as Flamel strode forward to shake her hand. His hair, which she had mistaken for platinum-blonde, was snow-white. Also, his eyes looked extremely out of place on his somewhat young face. They seemed old. Too old. _Impossibly_ old.

"It is a pleasure, young Miss Potter. Albus was speaking of you just a few hours ago. I hear you have an astonishing gift for mind magic. There are not many in this world that can pass easily into the thoughts of Albus Dumbledore. Yes indeed… a most astonishing feat." The man turned back to the Headmaster. "Albus, even though we do not agree… I _do_ trust your judgment. Farewell, my friend. I will remain in touch."

With a twirl of his cloak, the impossible-eyed man left the office.

Dumbledore gestured for her to come and sit. "Now, Harry, over the coming weeks I will instruct you on how to immerse yourself magically in memory. We must choose powerful memories; encompassing happy memories that consume all other thought and block out dreams. Let us begin." He placed his hands in a steeple and said lightly, "Can you to tell me what comes into your mind when you think of Miss Weasley?"

Harry didn't quite know how to respond to such a question. "I don't… I don't understand, sir."

Dumbledore rephrased. "I mean, Harry, what emotions or senses do you experience when thinking back to your meeting at the train station?"

_I dunno. Having a friend?_

"Friendship, sir?"

Dumbledore looked contemplatively at her over his half moon spectacles. "While that is a most excellent thing in itself, Harry, it is not quite what we need for _this_ type of magic. _Think back_. When you were with young Ginny, what did you see? What did you hear? What did you smell? What did you taste? What did you feel? What makes her… _her?_"

_She was holding Ginny tightly. Her body was soft. Her jumper was cuddly. Her eyes were bright. She smelled of…_

Harry grinned dazedly. "I smell strawberries, sir."

Dumbledore clapped his hands. "Excellent, Harry! We will use that as our building block, but first, we must attempt to find your magic's center."

_Do we have to do spells? What if I blow him up?_

"I don't think that's a good idea, sir."

Dumbledore fixed her with a penetrating stare. "Ahh... yes... I have heard tales from Minerva and Filius that you have been having trouble with your wandwork. If I may ask, Harry, do _you_ know what it is that is keeping you from casting a successful spell?"

Harry nodded gravely and whispered, "I see them, sir; just like in the dream. I see myself _killing_ them and…" She shut her eyes tightly, shaking her head to free her mind of the grotesque pictures.

Dumbledore sighed sadly. "I see. Harry, as I have said before, your magic is most strong. It is part of you and you must not fear it. Embrace it. Despite the tragedies that have befallen you, you have a pure soul... a beautiful soul. I have seen into your mind, Harriet Potter... and I have faith; faith that you will always choose to use your magic for good. And yet, it is not _I_ who must have faith. It is you." The headmaster smiled and placed his hand on her shoulder in comfort. "That is enough for tonight, I think. We will continue to meet each night to theorize about what we cannot yet put into practice. I fear I must warn you, Harry, that Dreamless Sleep potion is a most addictive substance. If you cannot find faith in yourself and your magic, the consequences could be most dire."

"I…I understand, sir."

"I have faith, dear girl. So should you." Dumbledore held out a small dish. "Would you care for a Lemon Drop?"

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Ginny lifted the enormous pot onto the stove with a grunt. She was _exhausted_. She had de-gnomed the garden, dusted the furniture, swept the kitchen, done the laundry, and now she was helping her mother cook.

_Housework is so much easier with seven people to share it._

Her mother bustled into the kitchen, her arms full of cabbages and potatoes. "Turn that stove up to high, will you, dear? I'll light it in a moment."

Ginny twisted the little gas knob to the red setting, then went to sit down at the dining room table in a slump. "Mum? _Why_ are we cooking so much? It's only me, you, and Dad. Who's all the food for?"

"_Oh_, yes. I invited the Lovegoods over. Xenophilius needs a good meal every now and then. When Anne passed away last year… Well, he hasn't quite been the same since, has he? You like Luna well enough, don't you?"

_Yeah... I guess. Bit barmy._

Ginny, not daring to say that out loud, agreed with a simple, "Yes, Mum, very much."

Her mother lit the stove and the flame exploded into the air, seeing as the gas had been on for a bit too long. "Good heavens! Oh dear me… No, I'm alright, love," she coughed, waving Ginny off and clearing away smoke. "Why don't you go out for a walk before dinner? Or maybe take a quick nap? You've been working so hard today and without so much as a fuss. I'll finish up myself. Go on… _scoot!_"

Trudging out of the house, Ginny headed for the edge of paddock. Hoisting herself up and over, she made her way to the small stream behind the house. It was very nice out today; not quite chilly, but not at all hot. With a tired sigh, she plopped down upon her favorite rock and dipped her bare feet into the cool water.

_I miss Ron..._

_And Percy..._

_I just might even miss Fred and George..._

_How long has it been? Four days? Merlin! How am I going to get through a year of boringness? I wonder if… no… she probably just said that to cheer me up. Doesn't even know me, does she? I… I hope she does though… probably won't… she said she would though and she was so… she's Harry Potter she's not going to write to you… but maybe-_

Her topsy-turvy thought process was interrupted by a raucous bout of loud, horrendously off-pitch singing. _"OH A PLIMPY ONE OR TWO OR THREE, A PLIMPY I WOULD LIKE TO SEE. A PLIMPY SMALL AND LIGHTNING QUICK, I'LL CATCH A PLIMPY WITH MY STICK!"_

She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted to surrounding the forest, "Hullo, Luna!"

There was some rustling in the brush way down the stream... and then a girl hopped into the water. She was platinum-blonde, rail thin, and her overalls were hitched up to her knees. The girl sprinted through the water and finally stopped with a mighty splash in front of Ginny. Leaning on her large, sharp stick, Luna stared up at Ginny incredulously, as if she had quite lost her mind. "Hello, Ginny. What are doing without your Plimpy Stick? These waters are filled with them. They could get you at any moment, you know."

Ginny reached over to the bank and picked up a stick. "Got one."

Luna sat down upon the rock as well. They leaned against each other, back to back, enjoying the last bit of warm September sunshine that they would be likely to see for a good long while.

After several long minutes of companionable silence, Luna asked dreamily, "Ginny, did a Kerbudgeon bite you? You seem a bit sad."

_What, in Merlin's name, is a Kerbudgeon? You know what? I don't want to know._

"No, Luna. I just miss my brothers."

The blonde girl replied in sing-song, splashing her toes in the water. "Don't worry. At least they'll come back!"

Luna burst into laughter, but despite the cheery attitude, Ginny did not fail to notice the _'at least._'

_Oh... right._

"I'm… I'm sorry about your mum, Luna. I never got around to coming to see you after…"

"_Oh?_ Why are you sorry about that? She's right here." The blonde girl poked her head and heart simultaneously.

Ginny didn't quite know how to reply to the surprisingly profound statement, so she simply nodded.

As they sat, Luna began to hum to the tune of her Plimpy song, randomly darting her stick into the water.

Ginny felt herself dozing off on the girl's shoulder.

And then...

"Ginny?"

She jumped awake.

"I believe this bird would like to speak with you."

"Wh-what?" Ginny turned and her eyes widened.

Sitting on a nearby branch was the loveliest snowy owl she had ever seen. Tied to the owl's leg was a small envelope with bright-green, overly-loopy scrawl on its front that read: _To Ginny Weasley._

Ginny reached over and untied the letter from the bird, her fingers trembling with excitement. The owl hooted softly, jumped from its branch, and promptly soared to a better roosting spot: her head. Giggling, Ginny opened the letter.

_Dear Ginny,_

_**Ickle Gin Gin, **_

_That was Ron, not me!_

_I hope the letter reaches you okay. If not… Well, I guess it reached you okay or you wouldn't be reading it. Anyway, three days in! Hogwarts is simply amazing. You're going to love it. There's moving staircases, and a giant squid, and-_ _**and Treacle Tart!**_ _Shut up, Ron, you silly plonker!_ _**Come here and make- Ouch!**_ _There is NOT a mountain troll at the sorting. It's just a hat that talks in your head and decide where to put you. It sat on mine for twenty minutes and my bum fell completely asleep. We're learning tons of magic-_ _**Harry isn't!**_ _Ron, stop being lazy. Write your own damned letter. You promised you would. When you get here, Ginny, watch out for the Potion's Master; Snape. He's a right old bastard he is. Hates me simply because I'm famous or some boll-_ _**Ginny, there is a HUGE Quidditch Pitch!**_ _Ron, I swear! He's right though. I still don't really understand what it is. Ron says you're a great flier. I wish I could see you fly! Maybe you could teach me how someday? We have our first flying lesson this Friday. I'm really excited about-_ _**Hopefully your broom doesn't explode too. OI NOT THE EARS!**_ _I swear… I'm never using a dictation quill again. I'd write another letter, but I have to get to the Headmaster's Office. I hope you're not too unhappy home alone… although, I'd be happy to not have Ron around right about now._

_Wishing you were here,_

_Harry-_ **_You wish she was here? You hardly- GUGH_...** _EW! Ron, you licked my hand!_

_P.S. Don't let Circe sit on your head._

Ginny's mouth fell open as she finished the letter. _HARRY IS FRIENDS WITH RON?_

"Oooo my, she seems very nice."

It seemed as if Luna had read the whole thing over her shoulder.

The blonde rubbed cheek against Ginny's ear. "Do you think she might like to kiss me? I think I'd like to kiss her."

Ginny, not paying attention to a word Luna had said, hopped down off the rock. Circe squawked indignantly and clambered to get back on her head.

"I'll see you at dinner in a bit, Luna. I want to write her back." She tore off up the hill back to the house, owl in hot pursuit.

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"Hermione, could you pass the syr- OH! Circe, get off!" Harry pulled the owl down with a smile. It looked very proud of itself, having just delivered its first letter. It hopped around on the table, knocking her bacon to the floor. Harry calmed her down enough to retrieve the little white envelope tied to her leg. '_To Harry Potter'_ stood out in messy chicken-scratch letters. She opened it, gave Circe some bacon, and read:

_Dear Harry,_

_You're FRIENDS with Ron? What did he do? Follow you around, showing you your chocolate frog card and begging you to talk to him? He was always a bit obsessed with stories of you, you know._

Something was scratched out here. The first few letters looked a bit like, 'So was,' but Harry couldn't make the rest out so she read on.

_Well, I'm glad you know each other, I guess. Maybe you could come around for Christmas! If you want to, that is._

Another scratch out.

_Mum would be happy to have you, I'm sure. Anyway, I'm glad there aren't really trolls. I was worried. As for Quidditch… oh it's amazing, Harry... just you wait! I think you'll love it and of course I can teach you how to fly. You're the perfect build for a seeker too!_

Yet another scratch out.

_I'm getting on alright at home. I expect Mum's been keeping me busy so I don't brood too much. Harry, I'm really glad you wrote. I didn't really think you would._

A scratch out.

_Wishing I was there with you,_

_Ginny_

_P.S. I don't think you're going to be able to break Circe from head sitting. She's been on mine the entire time I wrote this letter._

All of a sudden, Harry felt extraordinarily warm.

Ron shoveled some eggs into his mouth and, spewing them everywhere, said, "I wonder what the school brooms are like? What do yah reckon, Seamus? Cleansweep Fours?"

"Nah not even. Silver Arrows I expect."

A drawling voice said from right behind them, "I bet you're just _dying_ to ride on one of them, aren't you, Weasley?"

Draco and his two goons had sidled up to them unnoticed.

"Piss off, Malfoy," muttered Ron angrily.

The boy smirked and continued. "Must seem like a Nimbus Two-Thousand compared to what you've got at home. Do you all ride a family broom then? A Cleansweep One maybe? Father says he'll be getting me a Nimbus. He says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for the house team next year and I must say, I agree."

Harry wanted to punch him. She wanted to punch his stupid, smarmy, smirk right out of her head. She hated that he would pop into her mind and make her spells explode. Every word she heard him say, infuriated her more and more.

_I hate him. I hate his stupid hair, I hate his stupid eyes, and I hate his stupid fat mouth. I wish he would die… Well, no... I… I just wish he wasn't such a ponce._

Restraining Ron's arm as he rapidly reddened, she growled dangerously, "Draco… _go away_. It's too early for this and if you keep it up, I promise you that my foot will find your bits."

Draco grinned at her. "Dreamless Sleep potion's got your knickers in a twist then, Harry?" The blonde boy quickly reached out and snatched a small silver ball out of Neville's hand. "My my my… this is a charming little thing… I think I'll keep it."

Harry, Ron, and Seamus all got to their feet, shouting respectively, "Draco, give it back right now; I'll pound you, Malfoy; WIZARD'S DUEL!"

Everyone head in the hall swiveled in their direction.

McGonagall, who seemed to spot trouble miles away, was already quickly approaching. "What's going on here?" she said sternly, adjusting her tartan scarf and fixing them all with a steely glare.

Neville spoke up. "Malfoy's got my Rememberall, Professor."

Draco tossed it back to him and said over his shoulder as he turned away, "Just looking."

Harry fumed as the boy slipped away without punishment, but she felt a small slither on her upper arm and it calmed her considerably.

"_Chica, give me a banana."_

After breakfast, the Gryffindors made their way down to the pitch in a large group, all chatting happily about flying… apart from Neville and Hermione, who both looked rather green. The Slytherins were already there, standing next to the long line of brooms. Madam Hooch arrived shortly after them and with a piercing blast of her whistle directed them to move to the broomsticks.

Harry was giddy with excitement. She had shouted "UP!" with a little too much zeal and her broom had zoomed to her hand wildly, hitting Ron in the back of the head as it did so.

"Oi Harry! Watch it! Up!" Ron's soared neatly up. She, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Draco were the only ones who managed to get it on the first try. Harry and Ron laughed heartily when Madam Hooch told Draco he had been gripping his broom wrong for years.

"But my Father-"

"Your father, Mr. Malfoy, still holds the Hogwarts record for falls from a broom during a Quidditch match. If you do not wish to follow in his footsteps, I suggest you do as I say. Now everyone… mount up. On the count of three, you will push off the ground, hover, then turn the nose down to land. On my mark… Three… Two…"

Neville pushed off the ground. Harry watched as he went up and up. Ten feet, twenty feet, thirty feet. Madame Hooch was calling out to him. "Nose down, boy! Come back down!" Right as the yellow-eyed woman hopped on her broom and took after Neville, he fell. Harry watched, horrified, as the boy hit the ground with a sickening thud. She rushed over to him, as did the rest of the Gryffindors. Neville was dazed and clutching his arm in pain.

Madame Hooch soared back down. "Mmmm broken wrist at least. Come on, boy – it's all right, up you get. None of you is to move while I take this boy to the Hospital wing. You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say Quidditch! Come on, dear."

Harry watched as Madam Hooch picked Neville up as if he were made of paper and carried him out of the pitch. Parvati ran after them cooing supportively, but Madam Hooch sent her back to the group with a few stern words. Once the pair was out of sight, Draco turned to them all and said loudly "Did you see his face? The great lump!"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Parvati's eyes were dark and she stuck her finger into Draco's chest.

_Well… maybe she's not a complete bint after all._

Pansy cackled loudly. "Oooo sticking up for Longbottom? Never thought _you'd_ like fat little crybabies, Parvati!"

Parvati's caramel skin flushed to a much darker shade of brown. She was about to reply, but Draco cut her off. He had scooped down and grabbed a small shiny bauble off the ground. "Look! It's that stupid thing his Gran sent him!"

Harry stepped forward.

_He's such a stupid blighter._

"Give that to me right now, Draco."

The tittering group went silent, all eyes on herself and the blonde boy in front of her.

Draco flashed her a wide grin. "Now Harry… why would I do that when I could leave it someplace for Longbottom to find? Say, I dunno… up a tree?" He laughed and hopped onto a broom, soaring off to the tree line. He did a few loops and corkscrews to show off to the crowd. "COME UP HERE AND GET IT, HARRY!"

Infuriated, she stalked to a broom, but Hermione grabbed her arm. "Harry…_no."_

Turning to look at the girl, Harry was surprised to find a fearful look on her friend's face.

Hermione shuffled meekly. "If... If the teacher comes back out… you'll be expelled and I…"

Harry understood. "I know, Hermione, but that... that thing is important to Neville. Its from his... well, it's a present from his family. I've got to do it."

The girl frowned sadly, but let go of Harry's arm, nodded apprehensively, and stepped back.

Harry 'UP!'d' the broom, mounted, and kicked off hard. The wind whistled through her hair as she shot upwards.

_Oh wow! Ginny and Ron were right… this is fantastic!_

"_I wissh to be on the grasss, Harry sspeaker."_

"Sorry, Alice. This has got to be done." Harry steeled herself and zoomed the broom towards Malfoy. She was almost upon him when a flash of red light whooshed past her ear. Looking down, she saw another beam of light barreling toward her. Instinctively, like the broom was part of her own body, she looped her feet around the tail of the broom and twisted. The world spun. She barrel-rolled over top the jinx and on the ground she could see Pansy lying on the grass with her wand arm wrench behind her back. Hermione and Ron were standing side by side above the blonde.

_Thanks guys._

Draco was waiting for her. "Nice moves, Harry. You're a natural flier."

"Shut up, Draco! Give that ball to me _right now_… or I swear I'll knock you off your broom."

"No," he drawled with a smirk. Harry rushed him, grabbing for the ball. Draco sloth rolled underneath her and spun about face. As she came around for another run, she heard the crowd below gasp at the boy's risky broom roll.

"Look, Harry, I just want to talk to you," said Draco Lazily.

"WELL I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU! I _HATE_ YOU! NOW GIVE THAT _HERE_!"

"You don't hate me."

_Yes I… Yes I do! I DO! I… I do._

He was smirking at her and she wanted to wipe that stupid grin right off his face. Harry prepared to rush him again, but he called out to her loudly, "Harry, stop! I only took it because I knew it would rile you up and you'd come after me! Just… Listen, meet me in the trophy room tonight. Midnight. There are... _things_ that need to be said."

"_SHUT UP, DRACO! _I'm not meeting you anywhere to hear anything! _Your tongue is poison!"_ Harry charged at him as fast as the Silver Arrow could take her.

In his desperate attempt to get out of the way… Draco dropped the little ball.

_Shite. It's going to shatter!_

And she dove; she hurtled straight down, urging the broom to gain on the glint of falling glass.

_Not fast enough… almost... almost... almost there… GOT IT!_

With an unearthly cry of triumph, Harry pushed her feet down on the back end of the broom, pulled the handle up, and twisted back toward the sky. The broom went out of control. She corkscrewed along the ground for at least a hundred feet, her hair loose and skimming the grass, before she finally managed to right herself. Gripping the ball tightly in her fist, she tilted upwards and soared back to the crowd of students…

_Oh no._

"HARRY POTTER!" screamed Professor McGonagall. The woman was out of breath and red in the face. "_Never_ in all my times at Hogwarts- how _dare_ you- could have broken your neck!" A loud clamoring from all the Gryffindors interrupted her tirade. " But Professor- Malfoy took Neville's- wasn't her fault- Pansy tried to kill- he baited her," were just a few of the many simultaneous protests.

"That is enough!" cried McGonagall loudly. "Miss Potter… follow me."

_I'm done for._ Harry looked back at Draco who had landed nearby. He was helping Pansy up and cupping her cheek, speaking softly to her. The blonde girl was obviously crying from the painful spell hold either Ron or, more likely, Hermione had put her in. He put his temple to Pansy's and held her as she cried, but, over Pansy's shoulder, he was staring directly at Harry. The look in his steely-grey eyes seemed…

_Apologetic?_

Harry numbly followed the stern Professor up the front steps and back into the school.

_I wonder... From which part of the castle will she expel me? Her office? Professor Dumbledore's office? He won't be pleased, I expect._

After a few minutes of climbing staircases and ducking behind tapestries, they arrived at a Charms classroom. McGonagall stuck her head in. "Excuse me, Fillius… May I borrow Wood?

0000

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The Gryffindor dinner table was buzzing excitedly. She was surrounded by a milling crowd of people asking her questions. She was smiling and answering everyone in turn. Her eyes danced and twinkled in the light of the many floating chandeliers.

_Damn, what is that green?_

He had to get her back. He wanted her as his friend, not his enemy. This was his chance.

He folded the tiny note, got up, and walked around the Slytherin table. As he passed her by, he quickly, yet carefully dropped the sliver of parchment into the back of her collar.

Her slouched posture suddenly became ram-rod straight and Draco knew that she had noticed.

_Good_.

As inconspicuously as possible, he slipped out of the Great Hall and returned to the dungeons, feeling relieved.

0000

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"_Seeker,_ Harry! I can't believe it!"

Harry's cheeks flushed. Despite the fact that he was making a rather ridiculous show of proudly presenting her to the rest of the table, Ron had his arm around her shoulders and it felt... nice.

"Youngest house player in a century!"

"Ronald, you're embarrassing her!" These were the first words Hermione had said to Ron in several days that didn't involve a lecture on the proper wand movement or intonation of a spell.

Ron waved her off and replied triumphantly, "_You_ wouldn't understand a thing about it, would you?"

Ron was rather proud of the fact that he knew everything there was to know about Quidditch and that Hermione knew next to nothing. However, when Hermione did not reply and got up to leave the table instead of arguing, Ron looked downcast.

"Ron, I know you want to get to know her. Stop being such a -" Harry would've gone on, but she felt something scratchy slide into the back of her blouse.

"Get to _know_ her?" cried Ron, stabbing a potato viciously. "I bloody well don't want to get to know her!"

Harry, however, was not paying attention to his reply. She put her hand into her collar and pulled out a bit of rolled up parchment.

_Who-?_

She turned, casting her gaze about the Great Hall suspiciously. No one seemed to be paying her any sort of special attention or making a visible effort to ignore her.

Tentatively, Harry unfolded the note and scanned the single line of words written in a neat, sharp script.

_I'm glad you're still here. Trophy room. Midnight. Please?_

Glancing nervously at the redhead beside her, she folded it back up and quickly stuffed it into her pocket.

_Had Ron seen?_

Harry couldn't focus on her homework that night, for her eyes continuously strayed to the clock on the common room wall.

_11:49. Should I go? _

_I shouldn't go… _

_It's a trap... _

_He's setting me up… _

_Bollocks… I'm going._

Exiting the common room as quietly as she could, she tiptoed through the halls, dodging behind corners as the occasional ghost sailed through the walls doing whatever it was ghosts did at night. The trophy room was just above the Charms corridor. The hall seemed deserted. She sprinted across the hallway and up the small marble staircase at the end. The large wooden door was open just a crack and a small flickering light could be seen within.

Harry cautiously pushed it open.

There on the window sill, wandtip alight, sat Draco Malfoy.

_So... not a trap then?_

She closed the door behind her. He had looked up when she came in, but when she turned around, he was back to staring out at the grounds.

Harry could see the moon reflected in his eyes; a tiny speck of light in a sea of grey. "What do you want, Draco?" she asked hotly. "What was so desperately important that you had to meet me here in the dead of night? What was so desperate that you risked getting both of us expelled by McGonagall this morning?"

Draco didn't offer a reply.

"Well… SPEAK UP, YOU PONCE!"

The corners of his lips twitched upwards, but he still didn't answer.

When Harry could no longer sit and wait for him to speak, she growled in a deadly whisper, "Draco... talk now or I leave and blow something up so you get caught out of bounds."

Lazily tilting his head toward her, he drawled casually, "Harry? Why are we not friends?"

Harry laughed sarcastically. _"Isn't it bloody obvious?"_

Draco's chest heaved with a bitter sigh. "We got on great in the robe shop. Then I insult the Weasel and you explode. Now you can't stand the sight of me."

She scoffed in exasperation. "That's _exactly_ why we're not friends, Draco! Because you call him Weasel, and beggar, and blood-traitor! Ron is amazing and you think that having _money_ makes you better than him! I see the way you look at him… at Hermione… at Dean. You honestly believe that having money and being a 'Pureblood' makes you superior? It makes me _sick!_ You're just like my relatives… _completely intolerant_. Maybe it's not your fault. Maybe your parents raised you to believe that sort of thing, but until you change we can't be friends. Until you change... I hate your guts."

Draco seemed to deflate with every word of her tirade.

Harry sighed, walked over to the window sill, sat down next to him, and mumbled softly, "I really liked that boy in the robe shop; I really like the boy who is so good to Pansy. But he wears this mask of hate and bigotry that I just can't stand. Until he stops being such a ruddy ponce, I won't say a kind word to him."

"But… I want you back!" cried Draco angrily. "You were my friend first!"

_So now we get down to it._

"Then change," she whispered, staring into his moon touched eyes. His dead lifeless face flashed across her mind.

_I want him to change…_

"Pl- please change, Draco."

_… for me._

The corners of his eyes welled with tears and he scrubbed furiously at them, shaking his head. "I _am_ better! Mother always told me… she always said…"

Harry backed off. She could tell he was having some sort of fight with himself and so she sat, quietly watching the clouds drift over the moon. It was a nice night out.

With Draco stewed, occasionally grumbling or mumbling something under his breath, Harry let her thoughts drift aimlessly; from future Quidditch practices, to homework, to Ron and Hermione not getting along, and to Ginny.

_I wonder what she's doing? Maybe she's awake too, staring at the same moon._

It had been fifteen… maybe twenty minutes before a hand fell lightly on top of her own.

"I can try," Draco said sincerely, turning. "I won't say I'll- WEASLEY!"

Harry whirled around. Standing in the doorway, dressed in their pajamas, were Ron, Hermione, and Neville. Ron's mouth was hanging open as he stared at the two of them sitting on the large sill. No one spoke a word.

Sensing what Ron was thinking had become relatively easy for Harry over the last week. He was an open book. She could see that he was too overcome with shock to feel anything else at the moment, but she knew what would come next: anger; anger that Harry needed to head off before the redhead exploded. Walking over to Ron, she hugged him tight and whispered calmly, "It's okay, Ron. We were just talking."

Her words seemed to jolt the redhead out of his shock. One of his arms slipped protectively around her waist, while the other drew his wand. "If you had hurt Harry… I would have killed you, Malfoy. No questions asked."

Draco sneered at him, but didn't reply.

Ron sighed and let go of her. "I saw him put that note on you at Dinner. And I saw you leave the common room, Harry. Neither of you were very subtle about it you know. I thought he must have blackmailed you or something. I would have been right behind you if these two buggers hadn't slowed me up. Sorry."

Harry smiled softly. Ron seemed to be less angry at Draco and more angry at himself.

Hermione scoffed indignantly. "That's very unfair, Ronald. Neville just got locked out and I was concerned about where you were going. After all, you could have lost us so many points!"

"I bloody well don't care about points, Hermione! I care about Harry! She's my friend. I thought she was yours as well!"

"But Ronald-"

"_Oh no!" _squealed Neville in absolute dread.

Everyone stopped speaking and turned to him.

"_Look,_" whispered the slightly-pudgy boy, pointing shakily into the corner of the room.

Peeking out at them from behind a tapestry... was Mrs. Norris. The cat meowed loudly.

_Shite... Filch._

Panicking, Harry whispered, "Everyone… _run!"_

They flew out the door, down the steps, past the statue of Barnabus the Barmy, around the corner… and froze.

Peeves was hovering upside down, juggling several large glassy items that looked to be from the nearest classroom. When he saw them however, a large grin broke out on his face. "Ooo ickle firsties out of bed. Naughty naughty. Should tell Filch I should."

Before Harry could reason with the little creature, she saw Draco draw his wand. "Get out of the way, you _filthy_ geist!"

"NO, DRACO!"

But the hex was already off. The glass items Peeves had been juggling fell to the floor with a tumultuous _CRASH_.

"**STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED! DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"**

Peeves zoomed away, cackling madly, rattling windows, toppling suits of armor, and in general just making an astounding racket.

The five of them bolted to the end of the hall and slammed into a locked door.

"Oh no!" cried Ron.

"We're done for!" whined Draco simultaneously.

"Stop being idiots the both of you. Hermione take care of this, will you? I don't want to explode it." Harry stepped aside so Hermione could get at the door.

Hermione whipped out her wand and said, "_Alohomora."_ The lock clicked open and they ran inside right before the sound of footsteps pounded down the corridor.

"Peeves! Where are they? Who was it?" Filch was saying loudly. "Was it those terrible twins? Peeves don't you- come back here!" The yelling voice of Filch got softer and softer as he chased the poltergeist away.

Alice was sliding about her bicep rapidly. _"Thiss wass not a good place to hide, Chica. A demon lurkss."_

"Erm, Harry?" quavered Neville.

Harry's eyes bulged. "Yeah. I see it, Neville."

In the center of the corridor they had just entered, slept a giant, black, foul smelling, three headed, absolutely terrifying dog.

Harry spread her arms and started walking backwards,. "Everyone back away slowly. Back through the door."

"OUCH!" yelped Hermione. "Ron, my foot!"

Six pairs of large, yellow eyes snapped open.

"Go!" Harry cried, pulling out her wand. She felt the same tingling she would get whenever she was about to do magic.

The dog scrambled to its feet and charged.

_Ginny… dead. Ron...dead. Hermione… dead._

"ALOHOMORA!" she screamed.

The discharge between her wand and the dog was enormous. It sent the massive thing flying into a wall and blew them all back through the open door.

Neville had enough sense to get to his feet and slam the door shut, while the rest of them lay dazed. The rotund boy surprisingly took charge, albeit stuttering everything he said in fear. "Everyone… up. C-come on! F-Filch will… will have heard that! We have t-to get out of here."

They pushed themselves up. Well, except Draco who was moaning on the ground.

Ron whispered harshly, "Malfoy, come on! This way."

"I don't need _your_ help, Weasley!" spat the blonde.

Ron laughed coldly. "Suit yourself, you stupid blighter. You're on your own."

The four Gryffindors ran as fast as they could back to the tower.

"Pig snout!" shouted Harry. The Fat Lady jolted awake, but Harry swung her open before she could reprimand them. They launched themselves in and collapsed onto the sofas in front of the dying fire.

After catching her breath, Hermione simply said, "Goodnight," gave Ron a good solid glare, and left for their dorm room.

Harry knew she would be getting an earful from the bushy-haired girl later.

She and the two boys sat in companionable silence, watching the fire trickle down to a few glowing embers.

Quite suddenly, Neville started chuckling... and then Ron joined him... and then Harry as well. In seconds, they were all laughing uproariously.

Harry heard Percy thumping on the ceiling from his dormitory above the common room. There was a muffled, "Quiet down there!"

Ron sighed dramatically. "Harry, next time you go off in the middle of the night to have a friendly chat with the biggest berk in school… tell me… so I can _not_ follow you."

She smiled, stood, kissed him on the cheek, and headed up to bed.

_Noble Ron Weasley. My savior._

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A bludger slammed into Harry's elbow. There was a loud crack and a burning surge of blinding pain surged upwards through her arm. "AGGHHH! DAMN'T, FRED!"

A sharp piercing whistle sounded in the air.

_Thank God._

Rain pounding down upon her, Harry almost lost her one-handed grip on the finely polished handle of her Nimbus as she pulled it out of a dive. She steered the broom back toward the ground, cradling her arm to her chest. When the grass was close enough, she rolled off her broom and fell into the mud with a squelch. The rest of the team was landing, running toward the center of the pitch.

Harry held up her good arm and waved, breathing heavily. "I'm alright. I just… Ow... fuck... I think I broke my arm! Blimey Fred… you can hit like a freight train."

She couldn't stop from shrieking in agony as Oliver knelt down, sopping wet, and abruptly straightened her arm.

Fred sighed, pinching his eyes. "Merlin, Harry, I'm sorry. I thought you were George and you'd serve me back. Ollie… we need to call this mess. None of us can see a thing! Angelina slammed into the stands not ten minutes ago. Why are we still at it?"

Oliver grunted and stood. "Harry, do you think you can get up to Madam Pomfrey and back down here in twenty minutes or so? We have the pitch for another hour and-"

Alicia moaned, "_Ollie_, how can you even ask that? Her arm is broken, it's Halloween, it's seven o'clock in the morning, and it's pouring!"

"I _KNOW_ THAT! But we have to _practice!_ Our first game is in a week! ONE WEEK! I don't know about you lot, but I _refuse_ to once again be taunted by Flint for an _entire_ year."

"Oliver…" Harry shifted her weight onto her legs and stood. "I can't get out of the Hospital Wing that quickly anyway. I've been on Dreamless Sleep potion for nearly two months. Pomfrey will insist on putting me through a full checkup."

She watched as the fifth year paced back and forth. Angelina had to hit him in the shoulder before he finally threw up his hands and yelled, "Alright alright! Practice is over. Hit the showers. Harry go and get that arm fixed up."

Madam Pomfrey did indeed put her through a full exam. After a half an hour of muttering to herself and dragging her wand along Harry's body, the mediwitch sat down on the edge of the bed and grasped her hands. "The potion is making you weaker, deary. Another… another week or so and then your body will start to need it to function. You'll have to go into withdrawal before then and… and start experiencing the dreams. I don't know what else I can… _well,_ let's fix that arm up at least, shall we?"

An hour later she was standing under a shower in the Gryffindor locker rooms.

_Have faith… I just need to have faith._

Closing her eyes and taking everything in, Harry leaned back against the cool shower tiles to let the water pump down over her chest. She had rapidly become the most infamous and talked about girl in school for three reasons. One… because she was Harry _Bloody_ Potter. Two, because she was the youngest student in a century to play on a house Quidditch team. Three, because she knew every one of her books by heart, yet couldn't perform the smallest ounce of magic without something in the nearby vicinity exploding violently. For the past two months, whispers and rumors followed her everywhere.

_"Did you see her scar?"_

_"Did you hear she blew up a toilet?"_

_"I heard she bought her way onto the team."_

_"I bet she's just an overpowered squib."_

Harry slid down the wall, wrapped her arms around her knees, and let the shuddering, weary sob she had been holding in free.

_In a few weeks... I'll be in St. Mungo's… going insane._

Life at Hogwarts certainly wasn't quite what she had thought it would be. She had expected fairy-tales, but all she had seen so far was just another hardened reality, albeit fantastical in nature. In this world, she was a witch that couldn't do magic; she was still unnatural just like before. She was still...

Piers' face flashed before her eyes. _'Be a freaky little orphan on your own.'_

Harry roughly rubbed away her tears.

_No... I'm... I'm not on my own. I have friends. I have Ron and Hermione. I... I have Ginny._

_God... what am I going to tell them? What am I going to tell the team?_

She could imagine Ron's expression: head cocked slightly to the side, mouth open, blue eyes wide with surprise. Hermione would most likely just forego shock and rush to the Library to look up anything that would help her. Oliver would of course burst into tears as his dream of at last winning the cup slipped once again through his fingers. She didn't think she could tell Ginny in a letter. Harry didn't really know how the girl with whom she had gotten so close to through their near daily correspondence would feel when she stopped getting letters, but Harry was willing to risk that it would be better than reading that she would soon be a vegetable.

Harry grinned as she pictured Ginny's smiling, freckled face. The redheaded girl's letters were filled with so much kindness and excitement for life; excitement which Harry lacked given her impending insanity.

The warm water slid over her back, soothing her aching muscles while the thought of Ginny soothed her roiling emotions and eventually, despite the infinitely depressing situation, Harry was able to pick herself up from the tile and carry on with the day.

Her first class was Charms. They were trying levitation today. Ron, who had been paired with Hermione, was grumbling under his breath about where she could stick the feather she was trying to show him how to levitate. Harry had, of course, been paired with Seamus. They were the two likeliest people to explode something and thus they were seated at a table far from the others.

"Well, Harry? You ready?"

"Nope."

"Alright, good enough for me."

_Ginny lying at her feet, throat slit, amber eyes dull and unseeing. _

_NO! _

_"Wingardium Leviosa!_"

**BOOM**

Harry and Seamus were thrown violently backward as the desk exploded. Professor Flitwick repaired it with a flick of his wand and sighed. "Ahh well. No need to try again I think, Miss Potter."

And so she sat, bitterly watching the rest of the class levitate feathers for the whole hour, after which Professor Flitwick dismissed them with a sad glance in her direction. "I want a roll of parchment on some practical uses of the levitation spell please; due Monday. Do enjoy the Holloween feast."

Ron stomped over to her in a huff. He didn't say anything, but he did get steadily more annoyed as they walked out into the hall and down the staircases toward the dungeons. His steps got fiercer and fiercer before he finally exploded, "HOW CAN YOU _STAND_ HER? She's bloody awful! Sitting there, telling me everything I'm doing wrong in that… bossy… annoying… voice!" He was gesticulating wildly, waving his arms a bit like a windmill. "I spent more time in that class getting bossed around than I did actually practicing the spell! Honestly, Harry, she's the biggest _bloody_ know-it-all in the history of know-it-alls."

Harry grinned slyly. "I'm a know-it-all too, Ron. We're good to have around. We... _know_ things. Besides, she was just trying to help you."

She thought maybe some humor would've lightened him up, but unfortunately it only seemed to fan the flame of his anger.

"Yeah well at least _you_ don't rub it in everyone's face! I mean, she's a _nightmare_! IT'S LEVI-OOOOO-SA NOT LEVIO-SAAAAAA! Harry, why are you even her friend?" Ron had gotten louder and louder as he went on, voice echoing off the corridor walls.

Harry heard a sob from right behind them and Hermione pushed roughly into Ron's shoulder as she ran past.

Harry sighed heavily. "Oh _Ron_ … she _heard_ you! Look, I know you're angry, but… I think she's just trying to be your friend. She just doesn't understand that everyone isn't as brilliant as she is. You go on ahead… I'm going to go after her. I'll meet you in Potion's."

Even though Ron scoffed at her words, his eyes suggested that he did feel rather guilty that Hermione had heard him.

Harry chased off after her bushy-haired friend. She knew where Hermione was headed: the library. As she rounded a corner and approached its doors, she could hear Madam Pince's loud shushing echoing out.

Harry darted into the ante-chamber just as Madam Pince was returning to her clerk's desk.

"Excuse me, Madame Pi-"

"Biographies, I believe, Miss Potter." Madam Pince pushed up her glasses and ruffled the papers on her desk.

"Thank you, Ma'am." Harry walked quickly through the large double doors on the right of the chamber and up the spiraling staircase to the 4th floor.

She stalked hurriedly through the aisles, looking down each one for Hermione.

Finally, Harry heard soft crying coming from the Y-Z stack. She peeked in to see her friend sitting on the floor, sobbing gently into her knees.

"_Hermione_…"

"Go away, Harry. Please... _go away_."

Harry didn't go away; she couldn't. Walking over to Hermione, she sat down and put her arm around the girl. As soon as she did, Hermione's head hit her shoulder and the intensity of her sobs increased tenfold. Harry sat with her in silence, giving what comfort she could. When the choking sobs had slowed to sniffling, Harry felt brave enough to ask, "Why do you want him to like you so much, Hermione? And I know you do. You lecture him so much more than everyone else."

Hermione shrugged, mumbling brokenly with interspersed sniffles, "I... I don't know... I just... I just do. I want him to... to smile at me like he smiles at you. No one has... has ever..."

Harry put her arms around her, hugging tightly, and the girl leaned into the embrace.

"He'll come around. He doesn't know you like I do. In fact... I'm sure he'll be looking to make friends when I'm..." Harry only barely caught herself. Erm... Do you want to go to Potions? I think we have a few minutes left before class."

Hermione shook her head and Harry said cheerily, "Detention with Snape. Always a good time."

Hermione let out a half-sob half-laugh and stuttered, "You… You g-go, Harry. I'll b-be fine alone."

"Hermione, I'm not just going to le-"

The bushy-haired girl cut Harry off. "No... Harry... go. I n-need some time by myself."

Harry bit her lip. "Are you… Are you sure, Hermione?"

"Yes, I'll be just fine."

Harry gave her one last hug and left the library, making her way to the dungeons. Snape, of course, being the miserable old bat that he is, gave her detention the second she entered… three minutes late. "Detention tomorrow, Potter. Perhaps some honest work scrubbing the excess potion off the floors will resize your overly large ego."

The Slytherins all tittered with giggles… all except Draco, who continued his work as if nothing had happened.

_Maybe he's finally… no. He's still a berk to Ron and Hermione when I'm not around; he's a berk to everyone really. He's just putting on a show… but he is trying, I suppose._

She glared at Snape as she sat down in the empty seat next to Neville. Ron turned around but before he could ask whatever he wanted to ask, Snape swept down on him. "Eyes front, Weasley. You may _flirt_ with Potter on your own time… _but not on mine._"

Ron flushed scarlet and turned back to his cauldron as the right side of the classroom snickered.

Harry began to worry when Hermione did not show up to Transfiguration, Defense, or Herbology. It was definitely not like her to miss a lesson, let alone four. Harry had gone back to check the stacks in the library, but the girl was nowhere to be found. Hermione was off brooding by herself in places unknown and Ron was being shirty about it.

"Ron, you really upset her. She's not in the Library… I… I don't know where she's gone off to."

"So? Ser.. serves her right."

Harry could tell he didn't mean it and that he felt guilty for even saying it.

_He's so damn stubborn. They both are._

"Hermione?" asked Parvati. She had come up behind them, clearly having eavesdropped on their conversation. "I heard her in the bathroom outside of Transfiguration, crying. She's probably still there."

"Thanks, Parvati. We need to go look for her after dinner, Ron. You need to apologize."

Ron ran his hand though his hair, sighing with annoyed frustration. "I… I know. Bollocks. How do you say you're sorry… without actually apologizing?"

Holloween dinner was a spectacular event, but Harry wasn't really in the mood for festivities. She was about to go insane after all. She was about to get trucked off to the loony bin. She was about to start reliving Voldemort's murders for a month, until she came out of the withdrawal and could get back on the Dreamless Sleep potion. However, Dumbledore had essentially told her that neither her mind nor her body would be even remotely the same after a month of the Petrifying Dream.

She leaned over and grabbed Ron's hand under the table, squeezing it. He looked up at her from his very large bite of meat pie. "Harruh? Was -ong?" He swallowed his bite. "What's wrong?"

Harry scooted over on the bench and whispered under her breath, "Ron, there's… there's something I haven't been telling you. I'm… well, I'm going to have to leave school in a bit. The potion… it's… it's taking its toll. I'm going to have to start having the dreams."

Ron's brows furrowed. "No… _Harry... _I… I won't let you. I'll come with you! I'll wake-"

"You can't stay with me every night to bring me back from it, Ron. I'd die from sleep loss." Harry brushed her thumb over his knuckles.

"Harry, don't say that! There's… another way… isn't there?" He squeezed her hand, eyes searching her face rather desperately.

Harry nodded and said shakily… "There is, but… I can't do it without doing m-"

The doors to the Great Hall burst open violently. Everyone swiveled on the benches to see a deathly white Professor Quirrel come charging down the length of the hall shouting, "TROLL – IN THE DUNGEONS!" He ran up to Dumbledore, and gripped the edge of the head table before saying in a small voice, "thought you ought to know." Quirrel fainted.

There was a moment of silence, and then chaos broke loose over the hall; people were running, screaming... Fred and Geroge were dancing on top of a table.

BANG BANG BANG

Purple fireworks exploded from the tip Dumbledore's wand and everyone froze instantly … even the twins. The old man stood and said in a very calm voice, "Prefects, please escort your Houses to their common rooms, inside which, you will continue the feast. Teachers, to the dungeons if you please." The staff of Hogwarts, marched out of the hall with the exceptions of Quirrel who was unconscious and Snape, who she had seen slip off into an antechamber.

_What a coward._

Ron was tugging at her sleeve and she turned to him. He was as pale as a ghost and very slowly he groaned, "Harry… Hermione she… she doesn't know about the troll!"

They were being marched out of the Hall by Percy, who was shouting at everyone to remain calm and reminding them of his status as a Prefect. Out in the Entrance Hall, as soon as Percy turned his back on them, Harry grabbed Ron's hand and pulled him away down the closest hallway that led to Transfiguration. She vaguely heard Neville cry out, "Oi! Where are you two going then?"

_I hope Percy didn't hear him._

They rounded the corner to the Transfiguration corridor and heard a very high pitched scream as well as a loud SMASH from inside a room down the hall.

Ron dashed forward. "That was Hermione! Harry, come on!" Before she could protest, he had darted down the hallway and into the room.

"Ron, wait!" She ran in after him. She saw Hermione cowering in a corner as the huge troll towered over her. Harry found it hard to take in the massive thing, mainly because she was too occupied with its large spiked club, blood dripping from the end. "HERMIONE! MOVE!" The troll began to lift its club to swing at the cowering girl, but Ron, foregoing his magic, in what seemed to be the bravest or stupidest thing Harry had ever seen him do, latched on to a spike and rose off the ground. The troll noticed and began shaking the club wildly, trying to throw the boy off. After five or six massive shakes Ron went flying and smashed into a mirror above the sink. He fell and lay still.

_NO! RON! OH GOD!_

The giant creature raised its club, focusing once again on Hermione.

Harry leveled her wand.

_Ginny had a large gash across her chest… blood pooling at Harry's feet._

"_Wingardi- Wingar-"_

Hermione screamed as the club started advancing downward.

Harry saw it happening in slow motion.

_Ginny's lifeless eyes… _

She saw Ron's prone form on the tile; Hermione's fearful face… They were going to die! Here! Now! Dumbledore's voice echoed through her mind.

_I have faith… faith that you, Harry, will always choose to use your magic for good._

Harry felt her body tingling and she cried in anguish, "WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!"

She had been aiming for the club… but she missed. She hit the troll instead. It roared and flailed wildly as it soared into the air, bellowing it's rage.

Electricity hummed through Harry's veins. Her blood pounded in her ears. She felt alive. She felt wonderful. Ginny was smiling at her; Ron was laughing with her; Hermione was reading with her; Draco was smirking at her; Hagrid was patting her shoulder. Dumbledore's voice echoed through her mind once more.

_Do not be afraid of it, Harry. Embrace it._

And Harry did just that. She sank into the sensations and the world became brighter, more vivid. The very air she was breathing crackled with energy... _her energy. _Her nostrils tingled with fresh electrified ozone.

_This is… This is GREAT!_

A giant piece of the ceiling was smashed away by the trolls club and very nearly flattened Hermione.

_Oh_ … _Right._

Harry grabbed her wand like a cricket bat, drew it back, and swung with all her might. The troll had moved with her wand, sailing headfirst into nearest wall. There was an earth-shattering boom, a sickening CRACK, … and the troll fell to the ground, unmoving. Harry saw the giant club levitate rise into the air and come down with a thud on the creature's head.

Hermione was standing now, wand out. She grinned at Harry and said shakily, "Just for good measure."

They stood in the wreckage of burst sink pipes and shattered glass, steadily becoming wetter and wetter as water sprayed all over them. Her body was still humming and she couldn't really _see_ the room around her.

_I have to do more!_

"ALOHOMORA!" All six bathroom stalls flew open with a bang. "AGUAMENTI!" Water shot out of her wand like it would from a fire hose. "EXPULSO!" The mirrors exploded violently. Spell after spell she cast, every bit of magic she knew was burning through her mind like a wildfire. Her wand was vibrating from the energy of the constant casting. She laughed with overwhelming joy, while at the same time cried her eyes out. They were tears of sorrow, of happiness, and of pure unblemished relief.

This was how Professor McGonagall found her; sobbing, pulsing with energy, making rainbows, conjuring bubbles, transfiguring rubble into chairs, and levitating toilets, making them zoom around her head. It must have been an odd sight because Professor McGonagall screamed out "POTTER? What are you-" Her eyes widened. She had just caught sight of the giant troll lying dead at Harry's feet.

"Potter, did you-" She gestured to the creature.

"Yeah. We did."

Ron groaned and Harry ran to his side. Hermione was already there, holding his head in her lap. McGonagall shot a silver light out of her wand that raced out the door and zoomed away down the corridor.

Ron's eyes fluttered open. "Wha's happened? Did… Did I get it?"

Hermione laughed, bent down, and kissed his cheek. "Yes, Ronald, you got it."

"Oh good." His arms wrapped around Hermione's leg and he cuddled her, much like one would a teddy bear. He closed his eyes and after a moment's hesitation, began to snore loudly.

Hermione giggled and poked his head, "How can he be sleeping?"

Harry smiled down at the boy. "Silly bugger always gets sleepy after he eats. Blimey. I thought… I thought he was…"

Hermione nodded and brushed the shaggy hair out of Ron's eyes. "Me too," she said softly.

It was at that moment that Professors Dumbledore, Snape, Quirrel, and Sinistra entered the bathroom.

"Minerva, what has happened?" asked Snape while glaring at Harry. "Did you subdue it?

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "It was not me, Severus. It was-"

Professor Dumbledore stepped forward and interrupted them. "Miss Granger, would you please accompany Mr. Weasley to the Hospital wing? Aurora, would you be kind enough to escort them? Severus, Quirinus, Minerva, I trust you can take care of the body. Miss Potter, if you could follow me to my office please; that would be lovely." And without another word, he strode out of the bathroom.

Harry gave Hermione a quick hug, patted Ron's cheek, avoiding the small bit of drool upon it, and then ran after him. "Professor, I did it!"

"Yes, Harry, most excellent! May I ask how you are feeling?" Dumbledore strode purposefully and Harry, with her moderately short legs, found it hard to keep up.

Jogging along with him, she jabbered exuberantly, "Wonderful, sir! I feel alive and.. and… oh I can't explain it!"

The Headmaster chuckled, "Yes I suspected as much. Two months of pent up magic is trying to release itself from your body all at once. If you could, Harry, would you light your wand?"

She pulled it out and whispered, "Lumos!" A light as bright as the sun exploded from her wand tip. Shielding her eyes, Harry quickly put it out.

Dumbledore merely "Hmmmmm'd," and walked on. Once they were in his office, the Headmaster folded his hands and said simply, "Very well, Harry, you know what to do."

**/FLASHBACK/**

Dumbledore sat across from her, his eyes closed and his wand held to his chest. Harry could feel the magic in the air, flowing around her. The man was breathing deeply; in and out on a steady count of seven. Harry watched as his eyelids fluttered, as if he were dreaming. And then, without warning, his eyes popped open.

His pupils were… _gone_… as were the whites of his eyes. It was as if his irises had expanded and filled up his entire eye with their shade of deep twinkling blue. He smiled at her awed expression. "Magic Augmentation, Harry. We locate our magical core by finding the thread of magic connecting it to our wand. We find the core's connection to the mind and picture an hourglass; the sand at the bottom is our magical core, while the empty glass at the top is our mind. Using that one powerful sensation that we can experience physically in our happy memory, we flip the hourglass around it. The magic flows into the mind like the sand. It fills your thoughts and fills your dreams, leaving no space for the nightmares to come to you. It will protect you as you sleep, making the need for the potion nonexistent. We cannot do magic without flipping the hourglass back to our core. Do you understand in essence what I'm telling you, Harry?"

"Yeah… yes, sir. I think so."

_I don't have a clue. But I'll figure it out._

/**END FLASHBACK/**

Harry placed her wand to her chest and began to breathe deeply on a count of seven.

_Pheonix feather. Pheonix feather. Pheonix feather… AHA! There you are._

Harry walked along the thread to the large white sun burning majestically in front of her. She looked at the top of the sun and saw another thread extending upward, which she immediately found herself walking on. There was another sun up ahead, but smaller, cooler, touchable. And she stepped inside it.

_Ginny was staring at her, amber eyes sparkling in the sun. __She opened and closed her mouth like a fish._

_"I'll write you every week."_

_"Really, Harry? You… you don't have-"_

_"I want to."_

_Ginny shrieked in joy and threw herself at Harry for a hug. It was the first real hug that she had ever received and she returned it happily, inhaling a deep breath._

_Strawberries._

Harry clung to her, breathing her in. Her hands tangled in the hair at the base of Ginny's neck… and she flipped the hourglass. She could taste strawberries in her mouth; could smell them in the air.

"Ah, well done."

Harry opened her eyes. The world had a green tinge. No longer could she feel the power humming through her. But she saw it in her mind. A blazing sun. Raging and burning. She was acutely aware of everything. She could hear Fawkes and Alice… _breathing_. She could feel the students walking along the corridor outside. She could smell the grass of grounds though the open window. She could sense… everything.

Dumbledore passed her a small mirror.

Looking into it, she no longer saw her mother's eyes, but rather an all encompassing green.

The Headmaster smiled proudly. "You, Harry, are now the only person besides myself to ever master this technique. I must say, I am impressed."

However, Harry didn't quite hear him. Her body was tingling. She felt the intense heat of the sun in her mind. She smelled strawberries. She could feel the warmth rushing down…

_Ohhh… oh my... oh God..._

Harry moaned and clenched her legs together tightly. There was so much heat.

"I quite understand, Harry," chuckled Dumbledore. "Perhaps you could flip the hourglass back?"

Harry did so quickly. After the heat left her and the humming of her magic returned, she knew she had turned bright red.

The headmaster smiled and gestured vaguely. "Merely a temporary reaction. I believe that, within a few short months, you will no longer feel the heat of your core. That at least, was my own experience."

"O-Okay sir," Harry panted heavily, catching her breath. Dumbledore offered her a Lemon Drop which she gratefully took. After she had calmed, she ventured a question that she had been thinking on for quite some time. "Professor Dumbledore, sir? Does this mean I don't have to come to your office every night?"

The old man laughed and gazed questioningly at her over his half moon spectacles. "Yes, I believe it does, my dear girl. Are you asking me this because you tire of an old man's gasbagging, or because you wish to return to my office still?"

"The- the second, sir. I want to… I was wondering if you would… teach me more magic. Real magic."

"All magic is real magic, Harry... but I do understand what you mean. And no… I'm very sorry, Harry, but I cannot." She deflated miserably, but Dumbledore said quickly, "You misunderstand, Harry. It is not that I do not wish to. It is that I _cannot_. I am a Grand Sorcerer of the Seventh Circle. It is forbidden, by the ancient contracts of our order, to take a personal apprentice younger than fifteen years of age. You are an extremely talented young witch, Harry. I have seen into your mind and your heart is truly pure. In the future, if you still wish it and you have not yet tired of my quirks, you may become my apprentice."

Dumbledore smiled warmly at her. "Now… I believe there is a feast waiting for you in your common room. You should hurry back, Harry, for I don't expect the treacle tarts will remain uneaten."

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Severus had been so close; so _close_ to catching Quirrell red-handed. He had followed him into the third-floor corridor. But there had been a monstrous beast guarding the entrance.

_Hagrid's protection no doubt… the stupid oaf._

While he was trying to deal with the beast, Quirrell had slipped away, right through his fingers.

"GODDAMNIT, ARGUS. THAT STINGS! BE CAREFUL!"

The balding man growled at him. "If you don' want my `elp, Severus, I'll gladly leave yeh and yer poisoned wound in peace."

Severus was about to reply when Lily cried out, "OH! Professor Snape … I… I have detention..." His head snapped up at the voice he had missed for so long.

But it was not his Lily.

Harriet Potter stood in his doorway, staring down at his bloody leg in shock.

Severus quickly threw his robe back down.

"_Potter!_ Get out of my sight. Your detention is canceled." He watched as his Lily ran like the wind out his door, black hair flying wildly behind her.

_Damn you, James Potter. Damn you to hell._

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"She really is amazing, isn't she Draco," said Pansy. "I thought she had bought her way onto their team but… I don't think Victor Krum could have pulled off that last move." She said it in a way that made him think agreeing with her was a poor idea, especially if he wanted to look at her Charms essay tonight. _Oh dear. She's jealous._ He said nothing, but scooted closer to her and gripped her hand. He brushed a thumb across hers and watched as her face softened. The November air was freezing; a terrible day for Quidditch. A terrible day for Slytherin as well; they were being slaughtered and the score sat at 240 to 60.

Draco turned his attention back to the game and watched as Harry flipped under her broom to avoid an oncoming bludger Amazingly, she then turned the movement into an upside down dive to avoid Marcus, who attempted to Blatch her 'by accident.' Harry had been Blagged, Blatched, Blurted, and Cobbed the entire game, yet still she remained on her broom, pulling off truly spectacular moves to avoid the Slytherin team's dirty playing. Flint was a truly terrible captain. His gameplan seemed to consist of 'take the seeker out of the game, wait till we're only down by 140, then attempt to find the snitch.' The Gryffindor chasers had been racking up penalty shots like it was their job… Well, it was their job.

The crowd gasped as Harry, black hair and scarlet robes whipping wildly around her, shot toward the teacher's booth. He saw the snitch hovering right above the highest flag. The Slytherin seeker was miles away from it. Flint and Bletchley both tried desperately to grab Harry's broom tail, but she corkscrewed around both of them.

_She makes it look like it's as easy as breathing._

Harry caught the little thing in seconds and the game was over.

_She really is amazing, Pans._

He watched her fly high up above the grounds, clenching the little ball in the air. Everyone started to leave the stands, but Draco's eyes were glued to Harry. Her broom was jerking violently from side to side. He held up his binoculars and saw that Harry's green eyes were open wide in fright.

_She… she isn't controlling it_!

People started to gasp and point up at her. Her broom was bucking, weaving, and flipping; it was absolutely amazing that she hadn't fallen.

_There's only one thing that can do that to a Nimbus!_

He searched the Slytherin crowd wildly; frantically.

And then... Draco saw him. Professor Snape, four rows over, was muttering rapidly under his breath, eyes locked onto Harry.

_A jinx. What's he playing at! I know he hates her but…_

Saying he had to visit the bathroom, he excused himself from Pansy and rushed down the row. _This is going to hurt._ When he got close enough to Professor Snape, he purposely tripped over his own feet, and slammed into the Potion Master's back. Snape fell forward and crashed into Professor Quirrell, who squealed girlishly, gripping his turban as he too fell.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Professor! I tripped!"

Snape got up, looked up at Harry who had regained control and was flying quickly back to the ground, then rounded on Draco. "Idiot boy! Ten points from… Go away!"

_The slimy bastard. He really was jinxing the broom._

He waited up outside the Gryffindor Locker room. Many of the celebrating Gryffindors were giving him very odd looks as they passed.

Her hair wet and sticking to her face and neck, Harry came out alone in her regular robes. Busy buttoning up the last few notches of her blouse, the girl jumped when she saw him standing right outside.

_Damn, what is that green?_

"Dra-Draco? What are you doing-"

Draco cut her off. "It was Snape, Harry. He was jinxing your broom. I saw it. I fell on him and a second later you got control of your broom."

She looked shocked, but not skeptical.

"Are you… Draco, are you sure?" It looked like she was thinking hard, as if working on a puzzle.

"Positive, Harry."

The emerald-eyed girl solved whatever puzzle she was working on and… grinned. Even though she was smiling at him as if she knew the answer already, she slowly asked, "Draco? Why did you fall on Snape?"

"Oh… I…" Draco tried to tell her he would have done it again and again but no words came to him.

Harry laughed, flashed him the smile he so longed to see, punched him in the arm, and said sincerely, "Thanks, Draco."

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Ron was speechless as he watched Harry pace back and forth in Hagrid's cabin.

_Malfoy had saved her? But... that's... that's my job!_

Hermione was shaking her head. "I saw Snape doing it, but by the time I got over there, Harry was already back on the ground. I still can't believe a teacher would do something like that."

Harry scoffed. "Oh come on, Hermione. He hates my guts and he knows I saw his wound from that giant three-headed dog. He was trying to off me so I wouldn't tell anyone!"

There was a tinkling sound of breaking china. Hagrid had crushed the teacup he was holding in his hand. The giant sputtered, "'Arry, 'ow do you know 'bout Fluffy?"

"_Fluffy?"_ gasped Ron. "You mean that horrifying thing has a _name_?"

"Course he does!" said Hagrid, sopping up the spilled tea. "He's mine. He's a right sweetheart and a great guard dog."

Harry asked quickly, "What's he guarding then? That little package? Nicolas Flamel wanted Professor Dumbledore to guard something. Hagrid what is it? Snape's trying to steal it! I know he is."

In a tone that was very final, Hagrid said, "`Arry, I'm not tellin yer nuthin. It's fer yer own good."

Harry sighed dissapointedly.

Ron knew she was frustrated. She had a fierce need to know everything that was going on. "Hey, Harry, let's go flying, yeah? I'll use a school broom."

"Ron... she was just nearly chucked from her broom, I'm sure she doesn't-"

Harry cut Hermione off. "Yeah, Ron. Let's go. Hermione come fly with us."

Hermione spluttered. "Oh I was going to go to the... but… well… I can't fly."

Ron laughed. "I'll teach you, Hermione. Come on."

_I love watching her blush._

Circe flew up to them while they were walking to the pitch. The snowy owl dropped a letter in both his and Harry's hand.

_Ah... __Ginny_.

_Dear Favorite Brother,_

_Please come home for Christmas. I'm going out of my mind. Mum's mothering me all over the place. Come home. Share the load. Invite Harry as well. Mum's fine with it. Don't tell Harry I suggested it! She might think I'm obsessing over her or something._

_Love,_

_Ginny_

"Harry, Ginny wants to know if you would like to come over for Christmas break. She doesn't want you to know she said it because she's worried you'll think she's obsessed with you."

Harry giggled. "Ron… you're the worst brother ever, you know that? Well… do _you_ want me over for Christmas, then?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, course I do. You're my best mate after all."

She slipped her arm around him and leaned into his side. "Yeah, Ron. I'd love to."

Ron noticed Hermione stalk ahead of them rather fiercely.

_Weird. What's got her knickers in a twist?_

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**Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page. Contains some NSFW content.**

**Questions are answered on the review board.**

**So….. REVIEW!**

**Looking for someone to Beta-Grammar specific**

Did anyone like my Plimpy song? I actually went to the piano and banged out a score for it.

_Phew. Finally to Christmas. Fluff inc. Beware the fluff._

_If you're confused about the 7th __circle, I made it up. I like to think that Dumble's title in the book 'Grand Sorcerer' actually has some significance._


	6. Chapter 5: Holidays

_I want to take a second and thank everyone that's been reading. It means a lot to know that people are enjoying the story. _

_Onward with fluff. FLUFF AHOY_

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**Beta'd by Osma77**

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**Chapter 5: Holidays**

_Recurrence is the approximate return of a system towards its initial conditions._

_Recurrence and sensitive dependence on introduced attractors, are the two main ingredients for chaotic motion._

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BOOM

"_OUCH!" _Hermione cried, pulling back her burnt hand. "Oh I do _hate_ this game! Whichever madman thought exploding cards would be enjoyable needs to be locked up in St. Mungos! Well, I guess I'm out then; a knut on Harry to win." She sat back against the comfy seat, terribly amused at Ron's hurt look, and opened her book.

Ron scoffed huffily at her, throwing down his next card. "Just because she's got fast Quidditch reflexes doesn't mean–" The troll card exploded and Harry slammed her hand down on the pile, shouting out her triumph. Ron moaned. "No fair, Harry! There was an unlawful distraction by Hermione. I want a redo."

Harry stuck out her tongue playfully and Ron jumped on her, viciously tickling her sides.

Hermione buried her nose into her thick book as the pair tumbled about. She had been losing rather horribly to both of them at Exploding Snap and she was quite glad she no longer had to play. Watching from the sidelines was far more enjoyable.

_Sure... keep telling yourself that._

Hermione didn't really care to see the tickle-fight unfold, but from the squeals, she could tell that Harry was losing... badly.

Feeling her cheeks burn, she raised her book ever higher. She knew full well that she would always be their third wheel; the odd one out; the one Harry turned to when Ron wasn't around; the one Ron would joke with when Harry wasn't in the mood for jokes.

_The one that doesn't get invited to Christmas with Ron... The one he doesn't tickle… Oh shut up, brain!_

When the train back to King's Cross gave a great lurch and Harry's squeals finally ceased, Hermione looked up.

The black-haired girl lay on the floor giggling and gasping for air as Ron stood over her, hands raised in glorious victory.

_'You know, you could just ASK him to tickle you,'_ suggested a small voice at the back of Hermione's mind.

_I SAID SHUT IT!_

Ron stretched and his stomach let out a low growl of protest. "Merlin's beard, I'm starved. Harry, lets go find the food cart, eh? We'll badger the old lady till she gives in and lets us buy snacks early. Do you want anything, Mione?"

She looked up at him, floored.

_Mione?... Mione? He just called me Mione. Do I like that?_

Her toes curled in delight as he smiled goofily at her.

_Ohh... yes… I think I like that._

"Erm… no, thank you, Ron. I'm fine."

She busied herself with her book as Harry and Ron left the compartment, hoping to God they hadn't seen what felt like a very deep blush. She leaned her head against the train window, embracing the chill of the glass on her hot cheeks.

_After the troll… He's so warm now and… and he called me…_

The rest of the train ride was relatively uneventful and before she knew it, they were pulling into King's Cross. They unloaded quickly and she saw her parents standing over on Platform Nine, waiting for her to come out of the barrier.

Harry came up to her and enveloped her in a hug. "See you soon, Hermione. I hope you like my present." Hermione patted her on the back and started to pull away, but Harry held on tight and said, "I'll miss you a lot. Write to me, okay? I know it's just three weeks, but that's a long time not to see a sister, isn't it?"

_Oh… Harry..._

Hermione hugged Harry back as tightly as she could, grinning into her best friend's shoulder.

_Maybe… maybe I'm not the third wheel after all._

After parting with Harry, Ron too sidled up to her and bade his own farewell, albeit much less eloquently. "See you then, yeah?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

The awkwardness of the silence that followed threatened to overwhelm her.

But then...

Ron slid his arms around her waist, embraced her in a large, clumsy hug, and whispered into her hair, "Have a Happy Christmas, Mione."

Her heart fluttered wonderfully.

_Oh. He smells nice, doesn't he? Grass and… something. His shampoo, I suppose._

Hermione stepped back, picked up her trunk as best she could, and made for the barrier.

"Bye Harry, Bye Ron! Happy Christmas," she called out, waving behind her as the platform disappeared.

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Harry hugged Hermione tightly and whispered into her ear, "I'll miss you a lot. Write to me, okay? I know it's just three weeks, but that's a long time not to see a sister, isn't it?" She pulled away, rubbed Hermione's shoulders as they parted, and began to look for the rest of the Weasleys while Ron said his goodbye.

Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, Percy, and someone that looked like an older, larger, muscled… and to use Lavender's favorite word, '_dishy' _looking version of Ron, were all standing by the barrier. She giggled to herself and searched the rest of the platform.

_No Ginny. Wonder why she didn't come?_

After Hermione had departed from the barrier, the older Weasley she didn't know came over to them. He picked Ron up and threw him over his shoulder saying, "Alright Ron? Merlin, you're a heavy bugger. I think you might actually be growing. Well, either that or you need to lay off the pumpkin pasties."

Ron pounded on his brother's back. "Charlie, you bloody pillock! Put me down."

Charlie ruffled Ron's hair and said in a warning tone, "Oi, don't let mum hear you talking like that. You'll get a 'Scourgify' in your mouth faster than you can say Quidditch." Lowering his little brother down to the ground, the muscled man took a good look at her. "Is this Harry then? Well, course it is, isn't it? She looks just like what you and Ginny described." He winked at her. "Ron and Ginny don't quite ever shut up about you in their letters. I feel like I know you better than my own- Ow!"

Ron had punched him in the arm. "Shut it. Can you levitate our trunks over to Dad?"

Charlie waved his wand and their luggage rose into the air. Dodging hurrying parents, they made their way over to the rest of the Weasleys, exchanging farewells and "Happy Christmas"s with their classmates.

Mr. Weasley clapped Ron on the shoulder and smiled warmly at Harry. "Let's be off then. The train was a bit late and we _really_ don't want to worry Molly."

While in the Weasley's car, Harry must have dozed off onto Ron's shoulder; one minute they were pulling out of the train station and the next, they were jostling down a tiny country lane. They clearly weren't in London. The trees around them had a light covering of snow that made them sparkle in the fading sunlight.

After passing through a small village, the car rounded a large tower-like house that was surrounded by fragrant banana trees. There was a little slither on her upper-arm and she heard a small hiss that could only be described as a moan.

Harry nudged Ron and pointed with a raised eyebrow to the odd house.

He chuckled, saying, "Oh, that's the Lovegood's place. They're a riot, they are. I think Mum said they're in Australia for the holidays though."

The car trundled on down the earthy path and Harry could just make out an oddly-shaped silhouette against the sun-touched horizon. It looked like a very tall, very crooked… _something._ As they drew nearer, Harry was amazed to see that it was a farm house. The house had rooms sticking out of its roof at every possible angle. She was absolutely floored when she heard Ron say, "Well, this is it: The Burrow." He must have noticed her surprised look because he quickly went on to mutter, "I know it's not much, but it's home."

Harry rapidly shook her head. "No... it's wonderful, Ron! Where's your room?"

Ron pointed to the roof of the house. "That little window… there, right at the top."

"Will I stay with you?" Harry asked excitedly.

Ron rubbed the back of his head and laughed nervously. "Erm… no, you'll be with Ginny probably… that window there." He pointed to a room that stuck, unsupported, out of the tower leading to Ron's room. The window was overlooking the orchard next to them and through it, Harry could see a large Quidditch poster hanging above a headboard.

_I bet she has a beautiful view. Certainly better than a cupboard._

Mr. Weasley pulled the car into a large shed filled with broken electric appliances. Before she could even turn to question Ron, he leaned over and whispered into her ear, "Dad's a bit muggle obsessed. He pulls this stuff apart, enchants it, then puts it all back together again. Drives Mum bonkers. She says he'll have to arrest himself soon. He works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office at the Ministry."

Harry opened the car door and there was a loud crash. Mr. Weasley chuckled as she started to apologize profusely. "Don't worry about that, Harry. That bike hasn't worked in years."

She nodded, but apologized anyway and looked down at the large motorbike she had knocked over. It was extraordinarily rusted, but the black chrome was… familiar.

_Isn't that…_

"Mr. Weasley," she asked curiously. "Is this Hagrid's bike by any chance?"

"What? Oh no… well, yes actually… I suppose it is now. It belonged to… to your godfather before that. He gave it to Hagrid, who in turn gave it to me."

"My… my godfather? I have a _godfather_? Well... Well... Where is he?" Harry was bursting with excitement, but when she caught the somber look in Mr. Weasley's face, she deflated considerably.

"Sirius isn't… Well, he's not around anymore." Mr. Weasley looked away quickly and began marching their luggage up to the front gate.

_Oh… dead... _

Tearing her mind from thoughts of non-living godfathers, Harry walked slowly up the stone path to the open front door of the house. She could hear loud voices exclaiming their happy greetings from just inside. When she walked into the warm sitting room, there was a squeal, running footsteps, and then a redheaded blur slammed into her, knocking her down to the snowy ground outside.

It took her several confused moments to realize that she was being hugged tightly.

_Strawberries... Ginny!_

Ginny pulled back and Harry saw that she looked a bit different. Her freckles were much darker and her hair was loose and long around her shoulders. Harry didn't know why, but her breath hitched in her chest.

"Ohhh Harry!" whispered Ginny excitedly. "It's so good to see you! I would have gone to the train station, but I had to help Mum with dinner. Come inside! You'll stay in my room!"

Before Harry could even begin to return the greeting, she was being yanked out of the snow and hauled up the stairs.

_Her room is very… Ginnyish._

The walls, at least what she could see of them, were painted a whitish pink. Quidditch posters and moving photographs of the Weasleys were everywhere. Gwenog Jones took a prominent place over Ginny's cozy-looking bed. Colorful laundry hung off the dresser and was strewn here and there in small piles, which Ginny hastily kicked into a corner.

A nice, comfy cot lay parallel to Ginny's on the floor.

The redhead tossed off her shoes, ran across the room, and jumped onto her bed. She lay there, giggling into her large pillow. Harry smiled, took off her shoes as well, and walked across the soft, deep carpet to sit next to her. She pulled her feet up on the bed and hugged her knees to her chest, watching her friend giggle away.

Harry poked Ginny in the side of her belly with her foot. "Hey… Gin?"

Amber gold-flecked eyes met her own questioningly.

"Thanks for inviting me."

Ginny groaned and stuffed her head back into her pillow, mumbling words that sounded like, "Ron… ponce… kill him."

Harry poked her again with a toe. "He's the good kind of ponce though, isn't he?"

She poked once more and Ginny wiggled away, shaking with a small laugh. "Oh... _alright_, I suppose he's the good sort of ponce. There will, of course, be retribution."

Harry nodded primly, saying, "Oh yes, of course." She poked Ginny directly in the center of her tummy this time and the smaller girl let out a wheeze of giggles, pushing her foot away.

"Don't challenge me, Potter," said Ginny with a smirk. "Ron told me _all_ about your knees."

Harry retracted her foot quickly. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Grinning, Ginny sat up and scooted toward her, wiggling her fingers threateningly. "I just might…"

And she lunged.

Harry shrieked, jumped off the bed, and ran from the room with Ginny hot on her heels. They bolted down the stairs and into the sitting room, laughing loudly all the way. Harry ran behind Ron, who was just starting a chess game with his father, and used him as shield between herself and Ginny. She clutched him, panting in relief, but Ginny, instead of trying to get around her brother, jumped on him, and reached around his chest to tickle Harry mercilessly.

"No- No- FAIR!" Harry gasped as fingers dug behind her legs.

Ron swayed dangerously on the spot beneath their combined weight. With a loud crash, they toppled to the ground.

"Oi!" groaned Ron, pushing himself out from between them. "You nutters almost messed up the board!"

"Sorry, brother dear," crooned Ginny sweetly. "Harry had to be punished."

The boy sighed and muttered, "_Girls..._" under his breath, before sitting back down to his game.

Giggling quietly, Harry pulled Ginny into a soft hug. Leaning into her ear, she said as sincerely as she could manage, "_Really_, Ginny, this is the best."

Ginny's freckled face broke into a wide, toothy smile and she tugged Harry to her feet. "Come on. Let's go help Mum. We might be able to knick some turkey."

Dinner that was even more amazing than it smelled. Not even at Hogwarts had Harry tasted food so good.

Charlie was watching her open-mouthed as she loaded helping upon helping onto her plate. When she reached for her fourth serving of potatoes he chuckled and said, "Honestly, Harry… with your size, where do you put it all? You eat more than Bill."

Blushing as the handsome redhead smiled at her, she grinned and replied meekly, "Quidditch. Oliver puts us through hell."

"_Oliver?_ So Wood is captain, eh? I remember when he made the team second year. He lives and breathes the game. How many dive runs does he put you through each practice?"

Harry groaned into her potatoes. "About a hundred."

Charlie whistled in shock. "Blimey. That's rough." He patted her sympathetically on the shoulder and asked the rest of the table, "Does anyone fancy a game tomorrow?"

A bevy of loud cheers shouting 'Yes!' and 'Absolutely!' almost drowned out Percy's curt 'No thank you.'

Harry was on her fifth helping before she finally started to feel full. She sat back happy and content, listening to the idle chatter of a close family: Mrs. Weasley was mothering Fred and George about cutting their hair; Mr. Weasley was asking Charlie about the dragon reserve in Romania, Percy was lecturing Ron about his school habits. And Ginny…

Ginny was watching her. The redhead gave her a very warm smile, which Harry returned in full force.

The Weasleys talked late into the night, joking and laughing merrily. There was so much warmth in this house; the happiness and compassion was palpable... infectious even.

_They're all so..._

_They're so..._

**/FLASHBACK/**

"Dad, where are Harry's presents?" asked Dudley, not sounding too concerned as he zoomed his new toy airplane around his head.

Uncle Vernon ruffled Dudley's hair and shoved a large package into his hands. "Never you mind, Dudders. We gave her a present."

Harry thought of the nice wooden coat-hanger they had given her for her dress.

_It is nice..._

Dudley ripped open the next present and cackled with delight at the sight of the shiny firetruck that lay inside.

Harry gazed longingly at the toy.

_Maybe... Maybe I'll get a firetruck too._

Uncle Vernon waved at her dismissively as he watched his son play with his gifts. "Girl, give Dudley his next present."

Harry walked to the large pile of presents, picked up a smallish one, and brought it back to Dudley, who snatched it greedily out of her hands. She knelt down next to him, looking over his shoulder as he pulled back the wrapping.

"Out of the way," Uncle Vernon grunted.

A meaty hand found Harry's shoulder and pushed her roughly. She flew backwards into the sharp edge of the mantle.

Pain shot through her arm as her skin was torn open.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were much too involved with Dudley to notice that she was bleeding out onto their pristine rug.

**/END FLASHBACK/**

…_loving. They're so loving._

Harry could tell she had started to cry because her cheeks felt decidedly wet. Quickly excusing herself, she rushed up the stairs to her cot bed. After throwing herself into the safety of the covers, her tears were able to flow freely.

_They should have loved me. _

_They..._

_I loved them, but they… why couldn't… why didn't they-_

Her bed sank with a weight that was not her own and a soft hand gently brushed her hair back behind her ears.

Harry looked up and Mrs. Weasley's concerned face swam into view.

"Are you alright, dear?" the woman asked kindly.

Nodding vigorously, Harry tried to assure the readheaded matriarch that she was... but her tears betrayed her.

Mrs. Weasley sat her up and pulled her to her chest, but that only made Harry feel worse. A woman who barely knew her was showing more kindness and compassion than any of her family ever had or ever would. She was embracing her like... like...

_Like Aunt Petunia should have_...

Mrs. Weasley sighed and stroked her hair. "Shhhhh… it's alright, dear. Whatever it is… it'll be alright."

Harry felt another weight sink down on the bed.

"Harry… mate, anything I can do?"

Ron's arm slid around her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Harry shook her head and leaned into his side.

Mrs. Weasley stood and excused herself, saying she'd go make a cup of tea.

They both remained silent after she had left. Nothing really needed to be said. He knew what she was upset about and she supposed he understood. And… even if he didn't, his presence was comforting nonetheless.

Harry sighed into Ron's shoulder as her tears slowly abated. "Ron, you don't… you don't have to come running every time I start to blubber you know."

Ron grinned and scratched his head. "Well, actually, Harry… I kind of have to, you know? Ever since the train ride… I dunno. I just feel like I have to be there. It's like I'm not myself when I see you upset. It's like I... It's like I start channeling Dad."

Harry nodded, sinking into his arms. His breathing was slow and calm. Quite without purpose, she found her own breath matching his, just like she had done on the train.

There came a soft knock at the door.

Ginny sidled into the room clutching a fragrant, steaming mug of what had to be vanilla tea. She sat down on the cot and wordlessly handed the hot cup to Harry.

Ron stood and stretched. "I don't know about you two, but I'm knackered." He turned and nodded towards the ceiling. "I'm one room up if you need me, yeah? I'll ask the ghoul to keep it down tonight. See you two in the morning… Oh and dibs for second ride on the Nimbus."

Before Ginny could protest, he dashed from the room.

Harry let her hair fall into her face as she sipped the delicious tea. She didn't want Ginny to see her all teary-eyed and a mess; the girl didn't seem like the crying type.

And yet, Ginny too was hiding her eyes. She was fiddling with the black, lacy velvet on Harry's dress. It was obvious that she wanted to say something, but was doing her best to resist.

Eventually, the girl tugged at her midsection.

"We should… we should go to bed then. It's late."

Harry nodded, set aside her tea, and went to her trunk, pulling out Hermione's T-shirt and pajama bottoms. She wiggled into them quickly and clambered into the cot bed.

Ginny, however, undressed excruciatingly slowly. Everything about her movement was filled with hesitation. Harry was sure there was something on her mind.

_I wish she would just say it._

As Ginny's clothes peeled away, Harry noticed, even in the dark, that her freckles went everywhere: across her shoulders, down her back, into her purple polka-dot knickers, up her legs, over her chest… everywhere.

The redhead pulled on a long white nightgown and spent a good ten minutes brushing her hair before she too made for bed. The quilt and sheets magically peeled back and allowed Ginny to climb in above Harry, after which they re-tucked themselves.

They lay there for what seemed like ages, both knowing the other was still awake.

Finally, in a voice so quiet that Harry almost missed it, Ginny broke the silence.

"Was it... _me?_"

"Was what you, Gin?" Harry asked softly. "I dont-"

"I'm sorry alright!" cried Ginny, her tone suddenly pained. "I just… I _know_ I was a bit obsessive today… but… I've just… I've just never had a friend as close as you, Harry. I must have told you everything about myself in the fifty or so letters I sent. So… I'm sorry if I… came on too strong… or something..."

Catching on, Harry scrambled out of the cot and jumped onto Ginny's bed. "Gin, no! Of course it wasn't you! You're… _wonderful!_ Your entire family is wonderful."

"What… what was it, then?" stuttered the redhead, her body visibly tensing as she waited for an answer. "What else could it have been?"

Since the girl was turned away from her, Harry wiggled into the redhead's back, lay down, and wrapped her arm around Ginny's waist.

"I promise... It wasn't you."

Ginny grunted softly and pushed her bottom snuggly into the curve of Harry's hips.

Harry liked the feel of her. She was so soft and warm. The heavenly scent of her shiny red hair was intoxicating.

_Oh… Strawberries._

Harry let her forehead fall to the back of the girl's neck. "I... well, I never said in my letters... but... the Dursleys… they didn't treat me so well. When I saw all of you together… it just… it just made me realize that I've never had that; that I've _always_ wanted it. The Dursleys… they hate me! They _really_ hate me, Ginny! They think I'm a… _a freak!_ They made me sleep in a four by four by four coat cupboard! The dress I have… It's the _only one_ I have! My knickers are Hermione's because my old ones were half-safety pins! My uncle and cousin, they… they would hit me... _so hard!_ My aunt, she- mmph."

Ginny had turned over and placed a hand over Harry's mouth.

It was only when she could no longer speak that she realized she had been sobbing the words into the redhead's hair; loud enough to rouse the whole house. Harry shut her eyes tightly to squeeze out the last of her tears before pushing her cheek into Ginny's cupped hand, trying to calm herself.

"I… Gin… I-"

"Shhh. It's alright," said Ginny soothingly, cutting her off. "I understand."

"You... You do?"

Her eyes searching Harry's face wildly, the redhead nodded and whispered gently, "Harry, why don't you just… Why don't you just tell me everything, yeah? From the beginning. I think it might help."

And so, Harry did. All her pain came spilling out. The flood gates of her brain opened and she told Ginny about her entire life with the Dursleys; things she could never explain in letters; things that she hadn't even told Ron.

Once she had finished, she felt lighter, sleepier, and… happier.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Gin."

Ginny had pulled away and was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. "Don't be. No one should _ever_ have to live like that. To never have anyone to…"

The girl suddenly sat up on her elbow, leaned down, and planted a silly, wet, raspberry-kiss on Harry's cheek.

Harry squealed and wiped at her cheek. "Ewww, Ginny!"

Ginny grinned at her. "There… your very first kiss. You can tell allllll the boys."

Harry's heart did a little flip at that grin and she giggled... which in turn led to a huge, involuntary yawn as she realized how tired she was. Seconds later, Ginny did the exact same thing and said, "They really are contagious, aren't they?"

Harry nodded into the pillow and closed her eyes. "I'm so tired. I don't think I can move. Can you just roll me off onto the cot?"

In a small, slow voice, the redhead groaned out, "Nope… too tired. Just… stay here."

"Okay," sighed Harry.

"Okay," agreed Ginny, tapping her lightly on the nose.

Harry wiped her eyes, flipped the hourglass, and snuggled into the covers.

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"_Unh."_

Ginny's eyes flew open as she awoke from a terrible dream. She had been wearing a white dress with black, lacy velvet around its middle. Shadowy figures danced around her, lashing out and drawing blood. She had been shoved into a small room that was slowly shrinking down around her, the loose nails from the walls burrowing into her skin as the space tightened.

"_Unh… oh."_

It took her several moments to realize why there was someone else, besides herself, in her bed.

Harry was sleeping against her side, almost on top of her, her legs clamped tightly around one of Ginny's own.

She could feel hands gripping at her waist. She could feel her friend panting softly into the collar of her nightgown. The black-haired girl's skin was burning up.

Frightened, Ginny sat up and Harry, not having anything to hold onto, gripped the sheets tightly where Ginny's arm had been. Her face was flushed red and her long hair was splayed wildly over the pillow. Ginny watched, horrified, as Harry moaned loudly into the bedding and arched her back.

As the girl's groin pressed into Ginny's hip, she could feel Harry's body trembling.

_Oh no! She's having the nightmare again!_

Ginny shook her roughly. "Harry! Harry wake up! Please wake up!"

_I__t's no use! She told me the dreams would last until… RON!_

She was about to shout for her brother… when Harry's eyes fluttered opened.

However, it wasn't Harry's eyes that she saw. There was no iris left; no white left. It was just green. Emerald had flooded in, filling every bit of surface under her eyelids.

Ginny screamed and flattened herself against the wall as the girl sat up.

"Gin... what's wrong?"

"_HARRY!_ YOUR EYES!"

Realization slowly dawned upon Harry's face and she mumbled tiredly, "Oh... I forgot."

"Wh-_What?_"

The girl rubbed the sleep from her eyes and when she removed her hands, her normal bright-green orbs had returned.

"It's alright, Gin," said Harry reassuringly, sliding out of Ginny's bed to sit back down on her cot. "I'm fine."

Ginny unflattened herself, crawled to the edge of the mattress, and asked cautiously, "Harry… what on earth was-"

BANG

The door to her room slammed open and in filed every Weasley in the house. Her mother and father had their wands out and were pointing them wildly about the room.

Her father, his eyes wide with panic, panted out, "Girls! What's happened? We heard a scream!"

Harry, hair falling into her face, offered no explanation, so Ginny tried to explain as best she could. "I woke up and Harry was groaning and… and panting! I thought she was having the dreams so I shook her and… and her eyes were all… _wrong!_ They were gone! They… I can't explain it! Harry… what was it?"

Ron laughed and yawned. He seemed to know what had happened already. "I woke up for this? You explain, Harry. I'm going back to bed." He trudged heavily back up the stairs and Ginny heard his bed thump as he collapsed into it.

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry I woke you, Ginny. I thought my reactions had stopped, but something made it really intense again. As for the eyes… well, it's magic Professor Dumbledore taught me to help protect myself against the Petrifying Dream. I move my magic from my core to my brain and my eyes go all… wonky."

"You did magic without a wand?" Charlie asked, sounding very impressed.

The girl shook her head. "No… it's mind-magic. I don't need my wand anymore to find my core."

Ginny frowned. "But Harry… Why were you groaning and… I thought you were really hurt."

Harry's flushed face became, if possible, redder still. "It's not that. It's... well..."

Quite suddenly, Mum let out a little "oh" of understanding and bustled everyone out of the room. "Back to bed, the lot of you! Out! Harry, dear, why don't you come with me? I have just the thing."

They all left, including Harry.

Ginny's mind was fixated on the image of her friend as she had moaned. Her lips had been parted in a little oval shape. Her forehead had been glistening with sweat.

___I'm so confused. She was... she was in pain! Wasn't she?_

Harry slipped back into the room carrying a little bar of chocolate. The girl's wavy, wild locks were pushed back behind her ears and Ginny could still see the moisture caking her hairline.

Their eyes met and for a brief moment, Ginny lost herself in Harry's bright emerald orbs. But the girl quickly looked away and sat down next to her on top of her quilt. She broke the chocolate in two and handed her the slightly larger half.

Ginny didn't really know what to think, but she certainly wasn't going to push Harry into telling her something she didn't want to. Munching on her chocolate, she put her head down on the girl's shoulder and closed her eyes. "You scared the pants off me you know."

Harry giggled. "You're not wearing pants."

"You know what I mean."

Ginny finished the chocolate and flopped back down onto the bed, holding the quilt open for the girl.

"Oh… erm… I'd better not, Gin," breathed Harry, avoiding her gaze. "Don't want to wake you up again."

Ginny caught Harry's arm before she got back into the cot and pulled her into a tight hug. The girl's tinkling laugh as she returned the embrace made her heart flop. Despite the night's strange events, this had been the best day of Ginny's life. Harry was so easy to talk to. Their sense of humor was perfectly synced. The black-haired girl understood her completely. Never had Ginny felt so connected to someone; never had she felt so at ease. There was simply no way she was ever going to let Harry stop being her friend.

And when Harry made to get up, Ginny held on tight.

Unsurprisingly, they fell right off the edge of the bed.

Ginny burst out laughing as they landed with a small 'thwump' on the cot below.

Ron pounded on his wall up above them and shouted, "Oi! Shut it, the both of yah! Bloody buggering hell!"

A shrill yell echoed up the stairs. "Ronald Bilius Weasley! Do not let me hear you talk like that again or so help me I'll Scourgify your tongue away!"

Her brother's grumbled reply couldn't be heard through the ceiling, but Ginny was sure it was rife with even more colorful language.

Sighing happily, she breathed deeply into Harry's neck.

_She smells like... broom polish. _

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

Ginny nuzzled the girl's shoulder. "I'm really... I'm really glad you came over."

"Me too, Gin."

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"Merlin's pants, Harry. Just move a piece!" Ron was lying face down on the floor, moaning at her. He had one eye on the board in front of him, the other buried in the shag of the carpet.

Harry was concentrating fiercely on the game. Ron had her mated in the next six moves or so and she was desperately searching for a way out.

Ginny giggled, ceased running a brush through Harry's hair, and said slyly, "Ron, you do know that the sooner you finish this game… the sooner we have to go to the village for shopping. I know how much you _love_ to shop. Oh and after that, we have to decorate… by hand!"

Ron groaned. "You know what? Take as long as you want, Harry."

Ginny's brushing, Ron's groaning, and the little pieces screaming at her, did nothing to help Harry's concentration.

_Maybe if I pressure his Queen… no… he'll box me in even faster. Knight to the corner… no… Bishop to his rook… AHA!_

Grinning triumphantly, she captured the pawn Ron had jumped a space behind her own at the very beginning of the game. All the little pieces on the board let out a collective gasp of, "En passant."

Harry smirked. She had an open path to get another queen.

Ron sat up and glared at the board with incredulity. He fiddled with the top of a Bishop, then his Knight, then his King. He sat there for what must have been half an hour, mumbling under his breath, fondling the tops of each piece. She knew he was playing out entire games in his head, most of them ending with her winning.

By the time Ron finally made his move, Harry had long since leaned back into Ginny's knees, losing herself in the feel of the brush pulling lightly against her scalp.

"Knight to E4; your move then, Harry."

Harry sat up, peering down at the board in shock.

_Knight to E4? But she could just…_

As Ron stared at her intently, Harry slid her Queen to his Knight. He moved his Bishop to check her King. She moved a pawn to protect it. He moved back. She moved her forward pawn a space closer to his back line. He withdrew his Rook. She moved the pawn yet another space forward.

_One more!_

Ron repositioned his Knight.

Harry grinned and slid the little pawn to the back line where it magically grew into a Queen.

"Check" she said excitedly.

He used his Queen to defend.

She took it with her Knight. She was about to trap him!

Ron smirked and slid his Rook across the board. "That's Mate, mate. Tough luck."

All her pieces groaned miserably.

Harry did a double take and wailed. "NO! I was so close! How did you… How did I not _see_ that?

"You took the bait and lost focus. Ten moves ahead, Harry. Ten moves ahead. But Merlin, that was the best game I've ever had! You're better than Bill I expect."

She would have kept right on being miserable if Ginny hadn't leapt up and shouted, "CHRISTMAS SHOPPING!"

Mrs. Weasley jumped and ripped her knitting.

"Oh… Sorry about that, Mum," mumbled the redhead. "Come on, Harry. Get your… your… oh... erm... Well, you can use my spare coat and snow stockings." With a great tug, she pulled on Harry's arm and dragged her up the stairs.

Ginny's old clothes were a bit small, but very warm; warm enough to keep her toasty in the heavy falling snow. Devon in the snow, while not pleasant to trudge through, was absolutely beautiful. The moors were coated in white and Ottery St. Catchpole looked like a gingerbread village in the distance.

The Weasleys walked in a group, laughing and teasing, stepping in each other's footsteps in the snow. Fred and George were tossing snowballs at Percy, Charlie was bemoaning the fact that they would be having a white Christmas, as they wouldn't be able to fly until the snow died down, and Ginny was piggybacking him, asking all about his dragons and if she could come to Romania to see them.

Harry trailed along at the back, watching them all sadly.

_This is what a family should be like. This is what-"_

A lump of icy powder hit her in the side of the head.

She whirled around to find Ron grinning cheekily at her.

"Don't get into that again, eh?"

Harry grinned right back, scooped up a good chunk of snow, and pelted it at him. Ron ducked beneath the frozen missile and dove for her. He latched onto the edge of her coat and they fell into the snow, laughing.

Ron sat up and brushed the snow out of his hair as the rest of the Weasleys slowly pulled ahead of them.

"We haven't actually known each other for more than a few months but… it feels a bit like years, doesn't it?"

Harry nodded, smiling in agreement.

The redhead shuffled shyly, his ears turning pink. "What I'm saying is that to me… you're… well, you're as good a part of my family as any of these nutters." He gestured at the departing group of redheads. "So just... Just forget about those muggles, alright?"

Harry felt her heart soar. "Oh… Ron, that's-"

He stood, cutting her off. "True; a hundred percent true… and I bet the five galleons and however many of these wonky pound things I've got to my name, that Ginny feels the same. Merlin, I bet Mum does too. She thinks you're the greatest thing since… since mashed potatoes! Didn't you see her puttering about a few nights ago, loading food onto your plate?"

He pulled her up. "Blimey, I expect she favors you more than Fred and George. Well, no... bad example, but you get what I mean. Now, let's catch up. Up you get…" He hauled her onto his back and she clung to him just like Ginny did Charlie. "I might not be as big as any of my brothers yet, but you're a bit of a runt, you are."

Harry slapped him on the chest and muttered "Git," into his ear. She placed her chin on his shoulder as he trudged quickly through the snow to catch up with the rest of the group.

The village was small, but very lively considering its size. The little corner-stable pub was ringing with laughter and some very drunken singing. Streams of people were flitting in and out of the little shops in the center of town. Mr. Weasley waved to three people coming out of the pub, the youngest of which she recognized as a popular fourth-year Hufflepuff boy, whose name she could never remember. It was an odd name; something like... Hadric.

Ginny hopped down from Charlie's back and asked her father, "Dad, do you know where I can buy some copper wire?"

Mr. Weasley suggested the general store just across the square and Ginny ran off, Mrs. Weasley yelling after her to be careful.

Ron patted Harry's leg and pointed excitedly to window, above which was a sign depicting a steaming mug and a slab of chocolate. "Oi, Harry! The Chocolatier!"

Before she could say a word, he was carrying her quickly towards the shop's door.

It smelled absolutely wonderful inside the small store. The glass case in front of her was filled with chocolate swans, peanut butter truffles, chocolate peanut brittle, and just about every chocolate confection you could ever want. There were little stools where you could sit at the counter to order coffee, tea, and...

_Hot chocolate!_

Harry went to the smiling woman behind the counter and ordered two. Ron started to protest, but she immediately cut him off. "Oh shut it. I want to. I need someone to share my first ever hot-chocolate with."

Ron smiled begrudgingly and tweaked her nose. "Thanks, mate." He then proceeded to press his own nose up against the glass whilst trying to decide what he should get.

"Here you are, dears. Bit hot, they are."

The clerk was holding out two mugs of sweet-smelling bliss.

Hand trembling, Harry took the offered handle, blew away the steam, and sipped carefully. She shivered in delight as warmth spread to every corner of her body.

Ron looked at his cup appraisingly. "Oh wow... that's ratter good; even better than Auntie Muriel's. Maybe I'll splurge this year and get everyone a bit of chocolate. Excuse me, Miss, how much for those bird things?"

"A pound for each swan, dear."

Ron counted out his notes. "Oh good. I've got twelve. Can I get eight then? Wait... no... nine. Gotta get one for Bill too. Who knows if he'll show up. Harry, do you think three pounds is enough left over for a battery?"

She shrugged. "Why do you need a battery?"

Ron waved it off. "For Dad. It's tradition. Drives Mum mad, too."

finishing her drink, Harry also decided to buy nine chocolate and caramel turtles, one for each Weasley. She already had presents for Ron and Ginny, but she wanted to give each of the Weasleys something. They had all been so welcoming.

After half an hour of shopping and fiddling about, Ron and Harry met the rest of the Weasleys in front of the little pub and they all made their way slowly back to the house. Charlie and surprisingly, Percy had both gotten a bit sloshed at the pub. They were supporting each other as they walked, singing a loud, rousing, very off-pitch rendition of 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love.'

"They're going to regret that tomorrow morning," giggled a soft voice in her ear. Ginny had sidled up to her. "Mum definitely won't give them a hangover potion. She likes tough love."

Harry noticed that her friend's cheeks were very pink and that she was stumbling through the snow rather drunkenly. Laughing, she pulled Ginny's arm around her shoulder. "Looks like Charlie gave you a few sips then?"

The redhead smiled and clumsily pressed her finger against Harry's lips. ""Shhhh. Only a _few_."

When they finally arrived at the burrow, Harry and the Weasleys piled into the sitting room. Mr. Weasley lit a roaring fire and Mrs. Weasley plopped down into an armchair to resume her knitting, humming the tune that her sons had so poorly tried to recreate. Ron and Ginny took a seat on the couch while Harry sat down at its foot, resting her head on Ginny's thigh.

Harry grinned as she felt hands slip into her hair. Ginny seemed to love playing with it; all morning she had braided it, making elegant knots and such.

This time, however, the girl gathered a jumble of long bangs from either side of Harry's face and gently pulled them to the back of her head, where she proceeded to tie them together.

Mrs. Weasley smiled at them when Ginny announced that her work was done.

"Oh my, Harry… that looks quite beautiful. It suits you wonderfully. I think you may just have a gift, Ginny. Ooo... but look at the time. I should get started with that roast, shouldn't I?"

She bustled off to the kitchen, stepping expertly over Fred and George, who were wrestling on the rug.

As the rest of the family sat comfortably, lounging in various places whilst listening to the crackling sound of the fire and the soft music coming from the wireless, Harry slowly began to doze off on Ginny's leg, only somewhat aware of the hands fiddling with bits of her hair.

CRACK

She jolted into alertness as the front door swung open.

"I bid you a Happy Christmas, Weasleys!"

A tall, slim redhead with a ponytail and a short goatee stood smiling in the doorway, arms open wide. Ginny and Ron leapt up and ran to the stranger, jumping into his embrace. The man picked both of them up and whirled around like a top.

Mr. Weasley and Charlie both stood and greeted the newcomer with tight, one-armed hugs.

"It's good to have you home, son. We didn't expect you back."

"Aye. It's good to _be_ home. This assignment in Egypt has been rough. The flies… they're bloody murder." The pony-tailed man knelt down next to Fred and George and gave them severe knuckle rubs on their matching heads. After the twins had swatted him away, he stood and clapped Percy on the back. "Prefect, eh? Well done, Perse. Fancy a job as a Cursebreaker?"

Mr. Weasley broke away from the crowd of redheads to call out, "Molly… Bill's home!"

There was a gasp and a clatter of pans from the kitchen and Mrs. Weasley came hurrying around the corner to hug her son. "Ohh, Bill! It's wonderful to see you, dear! We didn't expect you back at all. Oh but- Just look at the state of your hair!"

"Oi, Mum!" Bill dodged away from the hand that was reaching for his ponytail. "When I heard that everyone was coming back, I couldn't resist. First full Weasley Christmas in a good few..." He trailed off when he finally spotted her.

Harry had made herself as small as possible on the rug. She hadn't wanted to interrupt their reunion. It wasn't her place. This wasn't her family, no matter how much she wished it was.

"And who's this then?" asked Bill slowly.

"Harry Potter," replied Ginny exhuberantly, running over and pulling Harry to her feet. "She's my best friend!"

Ron sent his sister a scathing look. "Since when?"

"Since forever, prat."

Blushing profusely, Harry looked away as the wide-eyed gaze of the eldest Weasley child settled on her scar.

"_Good lord_…so it is."

Surprisingly, the man recovered from his shock rather quickly and held out his hand for Harry to shake. "Well… very nice to meet you, Harry." He gestured towards her braids. "Anyone brave enough to let a Weasley woman near their hair is aces in my book."

Ginny harrumphed as Harry tentatively took Bill's offered hand.

"What's more..." said Ron proudly, clapping her on the back, "... she almost beat me at Chess, Bill! She had mate in a hundred different ways except one."

This seemed to cause the man more shock than finding out she was Harry Potter. "Did you _really?_ Well, that's more than anyone in this family can say. Not even Great Uncle Bilius could beat Ron. He lived and breathed the game. I'm still convinced their last game drove him insane. I would have lost _my_ marbles had I been seventy and trounced by an eight-year-old."

Charlie threw his arm around Bill's shoulders and pulled him off to a corner where they began to whisper to each other with wide grins on their faces.

Harry supposed they were talking about girlfriends and the like; things older boys talked about. She slowly came to the decision that she liked Bill a great deal. His personality was a bit like a cross between every Weasley sibling.

_He only gawked at me for a few seconds too; always a plus._

Mr. Weasley clapped and rubbed his hands together. "Well, who wants to help with the tree this year? I saw a nice grove of little pines just down the road."

There was a great scrambling as every redhead in the room made themselves scarce.

Harry nervously stepped forward. "C-Can I come, Mr. Weasley?"

"Alright then, Harry, get your things on. We might have a rough job of it. The snow will be deeper. Are you sure?"

She nodded and grabbed Ginny's spare coat. "The Dursleys had a fake tree. I... I want to do it properly."

The snow was much higher as they stumbled out into the cold... at least halfway up her thigh... so she took care to follow in Mr. Weasley's wake.

They eventually made their way around the shed that held the car and Hagrid's motorbike.

_No... my godfather's motorbike._

She lightly tugged on the tall man's sleeve. "Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes, Harry?"

Harry fiddled with the white powder, drawing a squiggly, swirling line next to her as she walked. "You knew my godfather by name. Did you know… Did you know my parents as well?"

"Ah... I had a feeling that might crop up at some point. Yes… Yes, I knew Lily and James very well. I first met them as a couple when they joined the Or- er... joined the war effort. Your parents and I went on several missions together, and whenever they were separated, all they ever talked about was each other. James even showed me the ring he bought to propose. I gave a toast at their wedding right after your godfather. From what Ron tells me, you have the second highest marks in your year. Lily too was a brilliant witch; one of the best I've ever seen. And James... James would have been ecstatic that you made the Quidditch team. He was a fanatic. They were... They were _wonderful_ people, Harry."

"Oh. That's… That's really…"

She trailed off. This man knew her parents better than she did.

_Everyone in the entire wizarding world knows them better than I do..._

Mr. Weasley placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You saved my son's life on Halloween. I reckon that wherever they are, they're quite proud of you." He pointed off to the side of the road. "There's the grove. Which one looks like a good one?"

Harry squashed the pain welling in her heart and ran over to the trees. They were thick and smelled strongly of sap. She paced around each one, trying to find a perfectly symmetrical pine of good height.

"Mr. Weasley! How about this one?"

The tree she had found was quite fat and the trunk couldn't be seen through the branches.

Mr. Weasley emerged through a gap between two tall dogwoods. "Oh yes. That's the one. Stand back, Harry." He waved his wand sharply in a horizontal line and the tree was sliced off at the stump. Mr. Weasley caught the top before it crashed. He thumped it down on the ground a few times to shake off the loose needles, then handed the top of the tree to Harry. "Weasley tradition to carry it in by hand. It's why none of the others jumped to volunteer. Just haul tip up on your shoulder… that's it. I'll get the heavy end."

The tree was twice her height, but they managed to get it back to The Burrow after quite a bit of readjusting and resting. The Weasleys cheered as the tree was squeezed through the front door and placed on a stand near the fire.

Harry grinned at their handiwork and pulled Mr. Weasley's sleeve once again. "Thank you for… for letting me help, sir.

Mr. Weasley smiled and patted the back of her head. "And thank _you,_ Harry. Goodness knows, you were a much better assistant than any wayward child of mine has ever been." He pulled out his wand with a flourish. "Now… Weasleys… let's decorate!"

There was an explosion of activity and magic. Mistletoe sprang from the ceiling with a flourish of Bill's wand. Charlie grew garlands up the railing of the stairs. Mr. Weasley waved his wand and twinkling snowflakes began to fall around the tree. Harry reached up to touch them and was shocked to find that they passed right through her hand.

"Ah. I'm quite good at illusions, if I do say so myself."

Mr. Weasley brandished his wand again, causing Harry to gasp in wonder. Twinkling fairies appeared to burst from all the decorations the men had just put up. They swooped around their heads, lighting up the room and landing on whatever they pleased: the sofa, the armchairs, the tree, the mantle, and even Ginny's head. With her cherry-red hair glittering with light, Harry thought she looked a bit like one of the characters in Dudley's fairy tale books.

_Good at illusions… He wasn't kidding._

Some of the fairies must have landed on her as well because Ginny marched over and flicked at Harry's bangs.

"I bet they'll get lost in there. I suppose I'll just have to give it a thorough brushing later, won't I?" Harry's heart flipped as the girl grinned cheekily at her and beckoned Ron over. "Come on, Harry. Come help Ron and I with the ornaments. The box is enormous and the ghoul will need to be distracted. He gets so mopey when you take things out of the attic."

In the attic, Ron distracted the ghoul with a bit of juggling. The slimy thing clapped and banged loudly on the pipes whilst Ginny and Harry discreetly lowered the box down the step ladder.

"All clear, Ron!" yelled Ginny.

Harry heard the ghoul wail as the boy's feet appeared on the steps.

Ron sighed heavily, shutting the latch to the attic. "Bugger. He'll be rattling the pipes for days now. No sleep for me tonight then, eh?"

Harry smiled privately. The silly bugger would surely snore right through it.

When the box of ornaments was opened in the sitting room, she was a bit surprised by the contents. Instead of shiny baubles and miniature candy-canes, it was filled with tiny, framed pictures of Weasley family members performing various happy activities: Fred and George playing in mud, a small Ron and Ginny chasing little potato shaped men, a young Bill and Charlie wrestling, seven shots of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley holding babies, Percy sucking his thumb and holding a blanket, a toothy old man wearing a real duck for a hat... and that was only to mention a few. Hundreds of happy redheads were smiling and waving up at her.

"NOW!"

Harry squawked in surprise as a body jumped onto her back while another slid in front of her. There was a flash of a bright light and she went blind.

Harry heard Fred and George say simultaneously, "Oh that's a keeper! Great idea, Gin!"

Sight returned to her slowly. Ginny was hanging off her shoulders, giggling into her ear, and Ron was down on the floor in front of her, laughing madly. Bill and Charlie were clutching a very old-fashioned camera. Bill tapped it with his wand and a little photograph appeared in midair. Charlie grabbed it, took one look, and grinned maniacally. He handed it to Bill, who had a similar reaction, before finally passing it to Harry.

Photo Ron was sliding through the bottom of the frame, side to side, over and over again, making a very strange face, eyes crossed and arms flung wide. Photo Ginny was on her shoulders, laughing and resting her chin on Harry's head. Photo Harry was windmilling her arms and looking dazed.

Harry laughed as they fell and Photo Ginny rolled out of the picture. Photo Harry would stand up, brush herself off, look down at the box, and then out of nowhere, Photo Ginny would run and jump on her again, starting the chain over and over.

"Yeah," she said quietly, roughly wiping a drop of budding moisture from the corner of her eye, "definitely a keeper."

Charlie took the picture from her and transfigured the white edges of the image into a delicate brass frame with a hook at the top. He handed it back to her, saying warmly, "You brought in the tree, Harry, so you get the honor of putting up the first ornament."

Harry walked over to the fat tree, watching Ron and Ginny jump into the little photograph. She hesitated. She liked to think that her outstretched arm was hovering over the foliage because she was looking for a suitable branch... but that wasn't the case.

_I don't deserve this. I'm… I don't belong-"_

An arm slipped around her and fingers linked with her own. Amber gold-flecked eyes glittered up at her. Ginny was leveling her with a blazing look; a look she thought she'd never forget; a look full of… _something._

The warmth in the redhead's gaze unfroze Harry's outstretched arm and she hung the little ornament on the nearest branch. The rest of the Weasleys cheered and dove into the box.

Decorating the tree took no time at all with nine sets of hands to do the job. As they were pulling the last few pictures out of the box, Mrs. Weasley bustled into the sitting room.

"That looks absolutely lovely, dears! Ohhh. You do know how I love your fairies, Arthur."

Even though several of the Weasley children groaned and covered their eyes, Harry found she couldn't look away as the redheaded woman leaned upwards and snogged her husband soundly.

When they broke apart Mr. Weasley's face was bright red and Mrs. Weasley patted him on the cheek. "Dinner's ready, everyone. Come along."

Harry stood rooted to the spot as the family trailed into the kitchen. The embrace had been short, open, and decidedly public, yet there was more intimacy in that kiss than she had ever seen in her life. Not even the sappy romance movies Aunt Petunia loved so much contained anything as passionate as what she had just witnessed.

Ginny must have noticed her reaction, for she paused in the doorway, smiled, and held out her hand. "Alright?"

"Yeah," whispered Harry, reaching out and entwining their fingers. "It's just... That was..."

"Typical," said the redhead. "_Very_ typical actually. Why do you think there are seven of us? Stick around and you'll get used to it."

Harry giggled and leaned into the girl's side. "Happy Christmas Eve, Gin."

Ginny's amber eyes twinkled merrily.

"Happy Christmas Eve, Harry."

0000

0000

0000

0000

_The serene space around her suddenly flared with unimaginable fire. She burned, rejoicing in the heat. She felt alive. She felt the searing white light lick her skin._

_Down… Down… Down… So far down. _

_Bliss!_

_Ambers and golds and cherry-reds exploded before her eyes. She could smell strawberry; she could taste it in her mouth. It was everywhere._

_'Harry?' _

_Cradling her senses. _

_'Haa-rryy.' _

_She couldn't…_

"Harry!"

Something was pressing down on her waist.

_Oh… lower. Please. _

She shifted, trying to make the weight slide backwards.

"Harry! WAKE UP! IT'S CHRISTMAS!"

Fingers wiggled into the undersides of her knees and Harry jerked awake, shrieking with uncontrollable laughter.

Ginny, who was tinged green, sat on her stomach, staring into her eyes with apprehension.

"Oh, right," mumbled Harry, quickly flipping the hourglass. "Sorry."

"You know I can't decide if that's amazing or terrifying." Ginny smiled and bounced excitedly on Harry's stomach. "Anyway... IT'S CHRISTMAS! Ohhhh, did you get me anything?"

"Course I did, silly," said Harry, blushing nervously. "Did... Did you get _me_ anything?"

Ginny bounced again, her grin widening. "Course I did, silly."

Harry sat up and the girl fell backwards onto the coverlet. She too found herself bouncing excitedly. "Did you _really?_ I mean… I've never had Christmas gifts before. Well… I got a hanger once. It was a good one, I suppose."

Ginny's grin slowly fell away and she let her hair fell into her face, just like Harry herself did whenever she was…

"Oh. Gin…what's… what's wrong? Did I say-"

Ginny shook her head fiercely. "No no no… I just… I wish you didn't have to live with… _them_. Can't you… I'm sure you could… well, you could live with us."

The girl looked up, eyes shining with hope.

Harry was a bit shocked by the unabashed invitation, but she didn't let the silence stretch. "Professor Dumbledore said I can't. He… He says my protections have to charge or… something. I wish I could."

"Protections?" asked Ginny curiously.

"Dunno" said Harry shrugging. Wanting to to change the topic, she leapt to her feet and held out her hand. "Come on! Presents!"

Ginny laughed, grabbed her hand, and they raced down the stairs. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were already sitting on the sofa with cups of tea, watching Ron as he paced around the tree, nudging presents with his foot.

Ginny's mother stood and smothered them both with a hug. "Oh, Happy Christmas, dears. I'll just kip upstairs and wake the boys."

Harry sat down at the edge of the tree, impeding Ron's pacing. He plopped down next to her and gave her a friendly nudge.

"Happy Christmas, Harry. I hope you like what I-"

"CHARLES PERCIVAL WEASLEY!"

Mrs. Weasley's screech literally shook the house. There was a squawk and two loud thumps.

The woman came rushing back down the stairs and fled into the kitchen. Even through the banging of pots and pans that ensued, Harry could distinctly hear her enraged muttering.

A few minutes later, Charlie came down the stairs, face very red. Trailing behind him was… a girl; a very pretty girl; a girl with…

_Pink hair?_

They were both blushing fiercely. The girl made for the door, but Charlie reached out and grabbed her arm saying, "Nym, wait, I changed my mind. I… I don't want to-"

The girl whirled around and caught Charlie's lips in a rough heated kiss. She was mashed up against his body and Harry could see tears trailing from the corners of her tightly shut eyes. They kissed desperately, hungrily, and then quite suddenly… the pink-haired girl pulled away. She cupped his face and whispered into his ear. Charlie nodded, closed his eyes, and placed his forehead on hers. They muttered quietly and shared one last rough kiss, before the girl turned and fled from the house.

Charlie stood there, staring after her. Harry could tell he was upset, but he also seemed… resigned. After a few minutes of silence, Charlie spun and marched into the kitchen.

A pot clanged on the stove and Mrs. Weasley's yells once again filled the house.

"Charlie! I can't believe you! There are children in this house!"

Charlie's voice was calmer, quieter, but it still carried clearly to the sitting room. "Mum, please, we were… saying goodbye."

A cabinet door slammed. "Goodbye? _GOODBYE?_ That did _not_ look like saying goodbye to me! What if they'd seen? They'd be scarred for life!"

"Scarred for life? Bill and I walked in on you and Dad plenty of times and we're just fine thank you. Look… Mum it… it won't happen again. We ended things."

"That is not the... wait... _ended_ things?" Mrs. Weasley's tone had changed completely. Her anger was gone, replaced by concern. "Oh _Charlie_… Why? I thought the two of you wanted to get married."

Harry heard Charlie's voice break. "We did, but… but the long distance is… Even with portkeys, we just can't manage it. Neither of us wants to stop doing what we're doing. We realized that if we were choosing our jobs over each other, then we… then we shouldn't be getting married. We'd resent each other. So we said goodbye… properly."

"Charlie, I'm… I'm so sorry. You'll… I know you'll find someone else one day that you love just as much. Why don't you go upstairs and wake your brothers while I make you a nice cup of tea, hmm?"

Ginny, who had found her way behind Harry to play with her hair, leaned forward and nestled her chin in the crook of her shoulder. As Charlie trudged upstairs with a glum look on his face, Ginny whispered sadly, "That was Nymphadora Tonks, Charlie's girlfriend from school. I'm sad to see they broke up. I really liked her. I was _sure_ they were going to get married."

Fred and George tumbled down the stairs, hair in matching cowlicks. They collapsed on the couch next to their father and resumed sleeping. Percy came down shortly after, fully dressed and groomed unlike the rest of the family, who was still in their nightwear. It was a good half hour before Bill and Charlie came back down the steps. They were laughing good-naturedly and Charlie's glum look had disappeared.

The kettle whistled from the kitchen and when Mrs. Weasley returned to the sitting room, she carried a tray full of teacups and chocolate biscuits.

Ron moaned. "_Mum…_ There's no time for tea! We have to open gifts!"

Mrs. Weasley clucked. "Be patient, Ronald. Here you are, dear." She handed the largest teacup to Charlie and cupped his cheek. Again, Ron moaned impatiently and Mrs. Weasley sighed. "I _suppose_ we could start opening while we drink. Arthur, would you hand them out please?"

Mr. Weasley waved his wand, making every gift under the tree rise into the air. They sailed over to him and he read each label, banishing the gifts to their recipients.

"Oh, Harry, these are great! I hope the swans are as good." Ron had not waited for all the gifts to be distributed and was already munching on his unwrapped turtle.

As the gift unwrapping commenced, Harry quickly found Ron's poorly-wrapped box amongst her pile, pulled the swan out of its container, and took a bite.

_Oh wow._

"It's got chocolate cream inside!" She broke off a piece and handed it to him, who in turn gave her a bit of the little turtle. "Thanks, Ron. It's really excellent."

"No problem, mate."

Mrs. Weasley began to badger her husband about the seven batteries he had received, one from each child.

Ginny opened up a present and gasped.

Harry had decided to buy her friend a magnificent set of ten peacock-feather quills, each enchanted to suck the ink back off the page when it scratched something out.

"_Harry_… How much did these cost?"

She shrugged. "Dunno, got them by owl order and they took the money right out of my vault. I know you scratch out a lot so I thought they'd be good.

"They must have been a fortune!"

"Do… Do you not like them?" asked Harry nervously. "Because we can send them back and I can get-"

Ginny cut her off with a lunging hug so strong they rolled backwards into the tree. "They're _perfect_, Harry. Open my gift now. You'll see why."

Ginny's gift was circular and light. With the redhead clutching her arm, she eagerly ripped off the paper.

Inside the package were two very delicate looking bracelets. They were made from elegant coils of brass and thick copper wire, braided together and twirled in a mesmerizing pattern.

Ginny hugged Harry's waist. "They're... Well... Yhey're friendship bracelets. Dad helped me magic them together. And these," she said, pulling out two small silver objects on hooks, "are the charms."

One was a small quill and the other was a tiny snitch.

Ginny gave her a glowing smile. "They were both pairs of earrings once. I found them in Great Grandma Weasley's jewelry box. And look, Bill carved a few runes on them for me, so when they hang... like this... they swing toward each other. Eventually, if you walk far enough in the direction it points, you'll find me."

Harry watched in wonder as the little things tried to touch in mid-air like magnets. "They're beautiful, Gin… I…"

She trailed off and obediently held out her wrist. If possible, Ginny's smile grew even wider. Attaching the quill charm to one of the bracelets, the redhead slipped the chain around Harry's outstretched arm.

"Dad can tighten it for you, if you want."

Ginny began to fiddle with the snitch charm, but Harry reached out and stopped her.

"Gin, let… let me. I want to do it."

Ginny held out her hand and Harry attached the snitch, sliding the bracelet onto the girl's wrist. The charms forcibly spun the bracelets and clinked together, creating a line between their arms.

"So," Ginny said, breaking the connection. "Friends?"

Harry grinned at her. "The best."

Charlie cleared his throat.

"Everyone, I don't want to be a Christmas buzzkill, but there's a snake on the floor."

Harry spun. The muscled redhead was pointing to the ground at her side.

Alice must have slid from her arm without her notice, for she was languidly rolling through a great tangle of ribbon.

"Don't worry," chuckled Ron, waving his family off. "She's Harry's; totally and completely harmless. Give her a banana and Alice is sweeter than a kitten."

Harry picked up the ribbon and the snake whined to her ear and her ear alone, _"Chica. I wass not finisshed. Give me the sshiny ssnake." _

Harry stroked Alice's head and placed the ribbon back down. The snake lovingly curled around her fingers.

While most of the Weasley's shrugged off their surprise and went back to their presents, Bill continued to stare at the snake intently, watching its every move. Since the man seemed quite unsettled, Harry picked up the snake and excused herself to the bathroom.

Once safely inside, she whispered, "Alice, I think Bill might have a phobia. You should stay hidden if you can. I don't want you to get hurt by accident."

"_But the sshiny ssnake-"_

"If I get it and put it in my trunk, will you stay there?"

"_Yess, Harry sspeaker."_

Upon returning to the sitting room, Harry saw Ron poking at the marble, muggle chess set she had gotten him.

"Blimey! This is so weird! They don't even yell at you! Amazing, Harry!"

She smiled and sat back down at her pile, pulling Ron's real gift into her lap. Inside was…

Harry ran her fingers over the faded orange lettering on the jersey that read, 'Chudley Cannons.' "_Ron!_ You can't give this to me! You love this shirt!"

He shrugged and said, "I've got plenty and that's my smallest. Getting a bit tight, it is. Besides, I thought you might like it. Do you?"

She nodded and pulled it on over her T-shirt. It was worn-in and the seams were incredibly soft. "I love it."

Harry tore into the next two gifts. Hagrid had sent her a carved wooden flute. It was very ornate and when she blew it, she heard Circe's answering hoot three floor's above.

Hemione had sent her two pairs of blue jeans with a note attached.

_Dear Harry,_

_Thanks for the spell books. I've already read both cover to cover. My mum says that these jeans are very stylish. I wouldn't know. I just thought of you in that dress all winter and had to send you something warmer. I miss you and Ron terribly and it's only been a few days. Maybe we could meet at Diagon Alley for a day. I'm desperate to go to Flourish and Blotts to find an alchemy book with Flamel in it. I have no idea why his name is so familiar. I can't remember where I read about it. I'm sure you and Ron wouldn't say no to a trip to Quality Quidditch Supplies either. So send me an owl._

"Ron… Hermione misses you terribly."

When she said it, Ron was unfortunately eating his way through the very large box of chocolates he had received from Hermione. She stifled her giggle as he proceeded to choke rather spectacularly, his ears reddening to the shade of his hair.

The last parcel was soft and thin. Harry was just about to open it when Mrs. Weasley shoved yet another gift into her hands.

The rest of the redheads were all opening similarly-shaped gifts. Fred and George tore theirs open and held up matching blue jumpers with the letters F and G stitched upon the front. They laughed and merrily exchanged sweaters.

Ron groaned under his breath. "Aw, Mum… maroon again?"

Every member of the family had received a sweater. Ginny's was red, Percy's was white, Bill's was black, and Charlie's was orange.

"So this is... This is... _mine?_"

The jumper Harry unwrapped with trembling fingers was a bright bottle-green. It was wonderfully soft and on the front, there was a large H stitched in white.

Mrs. Weasley beamed at her. "To match your eyes, dear."

Harry let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding. _"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."_ She placed the sweater lovingly on the carpet beside her, and opened the last present. A long, shimmering, silver something spilled out across her hands. It felt like liquid. A little note was attached that read:

_Your father left this in my possession before he died._

_It is time it was returned to you._

_Use it well._

_A Very Merry Christmas to you._

"What's that then, Harry?" Ron asked.

"I dunno. Cloak I think." She found a hood and pulled it around her.

The sitting room erupted with screams of "HARRY!" and "BLIMEY!" and "MERLIN'S SAGGY LEFT NUT!"

They were all staring at her like she had grown a second head. She looked down at herself to see if there was something on wrong, only to find that her body wasn't there.

"That's an invisibility cloak!" hissed George, using a hand to physically close Fred's mouth, from which dripped a copious amount of drool.

Mr. Weasley smiled warmly at her. "That was your father's cloak, Harry. He took it everywhere; stuffed it in his pocket."

"It was… This really belonged to my Dad?"

She pulled it off and ran it through her fingers. She really didn't know what her father looked like, but for a split-second, she imagined a tall grinning man, with hair just like her own, handing her the cloak and cupping her cheek. In her mind, he spoke in a lighthearted, kindly baritone.

'_It's yours now, love. Use it well.'_

"Who is it from, Harry?" asked Ginny.

"Doesn't say. Someone who… Someone who knew him."

Ron was waving his hand underneath the fabric, watching it vanish and reappear. "Blimey. Harry, with this we can easily sneak into the... erm... ah..."

Even though Ron had trailed off as Mrs. Weasley stared him down, Harry knew exactly what he meant.

_The Restricted Section._

They hadn't been able to find anything useful on Flamel in any of the available library books involving alchemy.

Harry wondered if Snape was trying to get past Fluffy right at this very moment. She sighed and lay back onto the carpet as the Weasleys chatted and opened the rest of their gifts, clutching both the invisibility cloak and her Weasley jumper to her chest.

_I wish I could stay here._

Ginny's freckled face appeared above her own, red hair tickling her nose and blocking out the light of the room like a curtain. The girl poked her squarely on the nose. "What's with that mopey face? Come on, Harry. Put on your jumper. Together, we make Christmas colors!"

The rest of the day passed like any other day, with the exception of consuming the best food she had ever tasted. After a long night of exhausting celebration, she climbed back into bed wearing her pajama bottoms and her new Weasley jumper.

_Maybe Dumbledore will let me leave before my Birthday next summer._

Ginny was peering down at her from the edge of her bed, her arm dangling over the side. The little snitch on the girl's wrist was straining to get to Harry's quill.

Reaching up, she took Ginny's hand and the charms clinked together.

"What's wrong?" asked the redhead gently. "Your mopey face is back."

Harry released her wrist and turned over. "I don't ever want to go back to the Dursleys. Not when… Not when there are people like you and Ron that... you know... want me around."

She heard the covers rustle above her and felt Ginny slide into the cot, nestling up against her back. The redhead hugged her tightly and whispered, "Friends?"

Harry swallowed the half-sob half-laugh that threatened to burst out of her chest. Turning in Ginny's arms, she nodded into the girl's shoulder. "The best."

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Ginny was amazed. Her friend was corkscrewing around Charlie's broom with quaffle in hand.

_If she's this good at chasing, I wonder what she's like as a Seeker?_

As Harry soared towards Ron's hoops, Ginny zipped along behind her, watching the girl's hair blow wildly about in a messy halo. Fred, Charlie, and Percy were barreling toward them from all sides. Harry pulled up wildly as they got close and did a loop, dropping the quaffle as she soared above them.

Ginny caught it deftly. The boys continued to follow the black-haired girl and by the time they realized Harry no longer had the ball, Ginny had put it cleanly through the far right hoop.

"THAT'S GAME!" cried George.

Ginny grinned. She, Bill, George, and Harry had slaughtered Charlie's team 200 to 40 in four-a-side Quidditch. Even though Harry's broom was far superior to anything else they were riding, Ginny was positive that Harry still would have outflown everyone.

"Merlin's pants," moaned Charlie. "Next game… we split the two of you up."

"Never!" she shouted back to Charlie.

Harry laughed and soared over, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Hear Hear."

They played another game with Bill and Percy, the weakest fliers, on their team. The score still wasn't even close.

"Blimey," moaned Ron as they landed. "It's like you read each other's bloody minds!"

Harry and Ginny giggled all the way back to the house. Neither of them were going to admit to the boys that they were using their charms to know exactly where the other was on the field.

Her mother was out in the garden, de-icing the plants with a bit of warm water from her wand. When they approached, she called out, "Boys, if you could start de-gnomeing the garden that would be lovely. Ginny, Harry, there's a bellows out in the shed. Get it and we can blow the little pests right out of their tunnels."

Harry laughed as they took turns sticking the fanlike contraption into the ground and pumping it, making hundreds of little potato shaped men run out of holes and bushes. Ron yelped as the one he had just caught bit his finger. He chucked the gnome violently over the fence and it fell into a faraway haystack with a loud _plop_.

Harry leaned over and asked her quietly, "Isn't the chucking a bit cruel?"

She shook her head, poking one the little creatures in the belly as it tried to kick her hand. "Nah. I think they enjoy it. They keep coming back for more. Anyway, it's bloody hard to actually hurt a gnome, so Dad spoils them instead; he puts out little bits of bread here and there as encouragement to not eat Mum's vegetables."

Once all the gnomes were out, they leaned back against the edge of the house and watched the boys hold a contest to see who could hit the haystack the most.

Even though it was a rather hot day for the end of December, everyone was dressed warmly in their jeans and jumpers. And by the wide, lazy smile plastered across Harry's peaceful face, Ginny could tell that her friend was overjoyed to have clothes that fit her body snugly. She didn't know what it was, but that smile was addicting. Grinning, she cuddled into the girl's side.

The petite girl let out a soft moan and through the cracks in her thick eyelashes, Ginny saw that Harry was augmenting her magic. It had taken her an entire week, but she had finally grown accustomed to the strange phenomenon.

_It's rather pretty actually. Scary… but pretty. _

Gently nudging Harry's arm, Ginny asked, "Why are you doing that then? I thought it was just for sleeping."

The girl jumped in surprise and her eyes quickly returned to normal. "Oh I… I just... My senses are heightened when I'm like this. I like it."

"Really?"

Harry waved her off. "Yeah. Smells, hearing, touch… That sort of thing."

"You _want_ to smell garden gnomes?" asked Ginny, flabbergasted. "Yuck."

"No, I can't smell anything when you're-" The black-haired girl stopped herself short. "Their... Their scent is overpowered by... by..."

"By what?"

"By… _strawberries,_" said Harry softly, looking away from her. "Do you... Do you have some nearby, then?"

"Oh, yeah! I forgot! Come with me!" Ginny grabbed Harry's hand, pulled her up, and dragged her towards the far side of the garden. When they reached the hedge, she ducked around it, emerging into her strawberry patch. "This is where I come to hide when Mum wants me to do the really awful chores. I grew them all by-"

Harry's fingers tightened around her hand in a vice-grip.

"Ouch! Harry, what-"

The girl was panting heavily, her face red, her eyes fully green. Her mouth was moving in little 'o's and she was clutching her other arm to her chest.

"S-Sorry, Gin. I… I'll be back in a bit; don't feel so good."

Ginny watched, baffled, as Harry sprinted off towards the house and, at a much slower pace, she followed.

Mum was bustling about the kitchen, making corned beef sandwiches for lunch.

Upstairs, Ginny heard the shower head squeal into life.

"Ginny, dear, would you slice up those potatoes for dinner tonight? I'd like to get it started. Your father is coming back from work early today and I'm sure he'll be starved. That Ministry food is no good and I don't want him picking apart my kitchen looking for snacks."

Ginny sighed. She wanted to make sure Harry was okay, but she dutifully picked up a knife and set to chopping.

Harry came back down with her hair wet and sticking to her face. She sidled up to her at the counter.

"Sorry. Felt a bit nauseous. Can I help?"

Ginny passed her a knife. "Do you feel better now at least?"

The girl grinned. "Loads."

They chopped in comfortable silence. Harry would occasionally nudge her with her hip and Ginny would nudge back. By the time they were finished chopping the potatoes, they were pushing hard against each other, laughing wildly, trying not to be the first to give in.

Mrs. Weasley clucked, not in anger, but in amusement. "Girls, stop that silliness. For goodness' sake, you've got knives in your hands. Out. Shoo. Go bring the boys in for lunch."

The corned beef was delicious and enjoyed by all except her brother, who sat poking at his sandwich miserably. Ginny giggled as Harry reached around Ron's back and tapped him on the opposite shoulder. When he turned, the girl stole the food off his plate.

"Oi! Harry!"

"Might as well let her have it," said Ginny pointedly. "You were just going to stare at it anyway."

Ron grumbled under his breath, but he didn't seem too angry, seeing as he allowed Harry to put her head down on his shoulder whilst she munched happily on her sneakily acquired second helping.

Their mother patted her youngest son on the back of the head. "There's some leftover ham from Christmas, dear. The fixings are still out for the sandwiches."

When Ron got up, Harry virtually inhaled the stolen sandwich and Ginny didn't couldn't decided whether she should be impressed or disgusted.

_I don't know if I want to be on the Quidditch team anymore if it makes me that hungry. _

As Harry trailed her finger through the mustard on her plate, licking it up, Ginny saw Bill freeze out of the corner of her eye, sandwich halfway to his mouth. He was staring in shock at Harry's plate.

Ginny could see nothing but smeared mustard.

Bill coughed and spoke up. "So, Harry, what subjects interest you at school? Ancient Runes was always my favorite. Fascinating class."

"Oh... I dunno," said Harry shrugging, swinging her dangling feet. "Certainly not potions."

Ron snorted loudly from the kitchen.

"I like Defense," continued Harry. "Quirrell doesn't teach us much, but the defense textbook is my favorite. And I like Charms too. Professor Flitwick told me my conjuring is the best he's ever seen from a first year."

Bill nodded. "You should try Runes when you get to start choosing your classes. It's very much like Charms, but you don't use your wand. The first year or two is study, then you get to apply them, and at the NEWT level you get to create them. I think you'd rather like it." He gestured towards her plate. "I see you already know one rune quite well. Double spirals... I don't recognize it. Where did you see it? One of your other textbooks?"

Ginny leaned over and saw that the trails of smeared mustard had indeed formed several shapes that looked like wonky crisscrossing spirals.

"N-No," stuttered Harry, staring down at the plate in shock. "I've never seen it anywhere. Are you… Are you _sure_ these are runes? I didn't even realize…"

Bill raised an eyebrow, clearly concerned. "Yes… Yes I'm quite sure. That mustard of yours is giving off a faint magical aura. Can you feel it?"

Ginny couldn't feel anything, but she saw Harry's eyes change once again. After a moment's pause, they changed back and she nodded at Bill.

"Yeah... but that's... that's so weird. How can I just make a rune? Especially when I don't a thing about it?"

Bill scratched his chin. "Well, you _can_ create them accidentally if you put enough willpower behind a specific thought or action, but you'd definitely need a wand to focus the magic into a set shape. The strange thing is… I saw your snake coiled in this exact same pattern on Christmas. It was giving off the exact same aura. I've _never_ heard of a rune acting like that. I thought at first that it might be dangerous, but it doesn't seem to be doing anything, does it? It just... well... It's harmlessly radiating magic. You might ask Professor Babbling at Hogwarts, if you ever decide to take the class."

Harry nodded, but cautiously wiped up the mustard with her napkin whilst eying the last of Ginny's sandwich.

Ginny quickly put her hands in a protective circle around her plate and smiled innocently at Harry. The black-haired girl grinned, reached out, and poked her in the ribs.

Ginny squealed, flattening her arms to her sides. When she looked up, her last two bites of sandwich were gone and Harry was running up the stairs, giggling madly.

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Hermione sat with her father under a large, pink, singing, floating, slowly revolving umbrella. The Fortescue's Hot Fudge Sundae she was sharing with him was quite excellent. She loved ice-cream, even on cold afternoons like this one. With her parents being dentists, she rarely could convince them to buy any. However, today, her father had been more than willing to indulge her. Perhaps he was simply feeling lax, but she suspected it was because ice-cream reminded him of normality whilst submerged in a world of magic.

"Hermione!" yelled a loud voice from behind her.

She jumped in surprise and the little scoop of ice-cream on her spoon sailed off to land upon the head of a stuffed vulture that occupied the rim of an old woman's hat.

Walking toward her through the crowd were Ron, Harry, and a red-haired girl whose face was covered in freckles

_I bet that's Ginny. _

Several other redheads were following in the trio's wake.

Hermione turned to kneel in her seat, pulled Harry and Ron into a hug, then spun to greet the red-haired girl.

"Hello, I'm-"

"Hermione Granger!" The girl's hair was literally bouncing with her excitement. "Ron and Harry talk about you a lot. I'm Ginny."

As Harry smiled and wrapped her arms around the girl's waist, Hermione felt a small pang of jealousy. It was painfully obvious that she was no longer Harry's best female friend. However, that jealously instantly disappeared when Ron lifted his large, mitten-covered hand to brush the snowflakes out of her hair. It must have been an unconscious action, for when Hermione met his gaze, he quickly pulled his hand away and his ears turned an unusually bright shade of pink.

_Perhaps he... What if he... _

_No... Don't be silly. It's probably from the cold._

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she beamed at them all. "Well… Happy New Years Eve, everyone! This is my father."

Dad gave the three newcomers polite, yet withdrawn 'Hello's.' Hermione knew he was still a bit new to the idea of magic and the giant singing umbrella was not likely putting him at ease.

"So... where should we go first?"

Harry, Ron, and Ginny smiled, pointing as one towards Quality Quidditch Supplies.

_Oh honestly._

After an hour of following the three around the store, watching them press their noses against the displays, she finally convinced them to head to Flourish and Blotts. As they opened the shop's door, the wonderful scent of aged parchment flooded over her. Hermione headed straight to the magic theory section and started to poor through the select few tomes on alchemy, searching for Nicolas Flamel.

Ron eventually wandered into the aisle she was perusing, trailing his fingers along tomes both old and new, clearly uninterested in the knowledge they withheld. He sat down next to her, reading over her shoulder. "Find anything?"

She sighed exasperatedly. "Yes, Ronald. I found several in depth references on Flamel and I'm pouring through this rather dull index for fun… _Of course_ I haven't found anything! All anyone knows about him is that he's a young alchemist that worked with Dumbledore on experiments with dragon's blood."

"Oi, no need to get shirty." Ron pulled down a book and flipped through it lazily, humming a tune she didn't recognize.

Hermione felt a bit disheartened. She had half-expected Ron's ears to go pink once again and for him to start arguing fiercely, but it didn't come this time. She had to admit that she liked to bicker with him. He was so stubborn sometimes. He was like… _a challenge_.

"You seem to be in a good mood today then," she probed gently.

"Well… it's New Year's, isn't it? Can't get angry on New Year's… s'bad luck. Come on, Mione, let's get out of this dusty old shop. There's nothing useful here. I mean look at this one, five hundred pages blabbering about equivalent exchange and unsuccessful attempts to turn metal into gold. Says here some bloke named Barnabus lost his teeth when he turned nickel into copper. Bunch of useless tripe. We can get into the Restricted Section at school with Harry's cloak. Bound to be something in there."

Hermione sighed and nodded. He was right.

Ron stood, picking up all the books she had taken off the shelves, and shoved them haphazardly into a bookcase. Hermione was about to protest, but when the redhead clasped her hand to pull her out of the shop, she promptly forgot that there was a problem.

Mr. Weasley was busily entertaining Hermione's father with mad questions about 'eckletricity,' so instead of joinging him she followed Ron over to where Harry and Ginny sat ready to watch the fireworks.

"No luck, then?" asked Harry.

"Not a thing. Equivalent exchange this, equivalent exchange that. Only one very recent book mentioned him and it says about as much as we knew already. I just don't understand how he could be such a well-established wizard without there being any real mention of him. A Headmaster of the Alchemy Institute, a Grandmaster Sorcerer, a Supreme Warlock, a Grand Mugwump…and all the records say is that Nicolas Flamel was a young alchemist that worked with…"

Hermione froze, eyes widening with realization.

_Could it be that simple?_

_There have to be records of…_

"I'll be right back!" she shouted, tearing back down the street and into the bookshop. She darted to the history section and rapidly scanned the shelf. Immediately, she found what she was looking for. She pulled down the most recent edition of Greatest Wizarding Schools of the Second Millennium and flipped through the book until she found the Institute for Experimental Alchemy. She searched frantically through the description.

_Founded in 1726 by Erik Adler, Supreme Warlock_

_Total Graduates as of 1980: 4,831_

_Location: Heidelberg, Germany_

_Current Headmaster: Jackson Smith_

The portrait beside the name showed a very old man with a toothy grin and lopsided spectacles. Hermione excitedly scanned the caption.

_Jackson Smith, aged 137, is the longest lived headmaster the school has ever seen. He is most renowned for his discovery of two transmutative properties of dragon's blood, with his partner Albus Dumbledore, in 1956. Smith holds the Grand Mugwump's seat in the International Confederation of Wizards, as well as the Supreme Warlock's seat on the Wizengamot._

She slammed the book triumphantly.

_This isn't Flamel! Well, that's something at least. _

Receiving a very annoyed look from the shop's clerk, Hermione rushed out of the shop and back down the street to Harry, Ron, and Ginny. "Harry!" she cried excitedly, gasping for breath. "He's not the Headmaster! Jackson Smith is; age one hundred thirty-seven; partners with Dumbledore; discovered two alchemical properties of dragon's blood! He holds the same positions that Dumbledore said Flamel did. Do you… Do you think Flamel is really Smith? He could be using glamours or a potion to look younger. He could be hiding in plain sight!"

"I dunno… maybe. But why would Dumbledore not tell me the truth?"

Hermione shrugged, "Maybe it's to protect whatever he wanted to keep safe. Flamel could just be a cover name. Maybe that little parcel had something to do with dragon's blood!"

Harry shook her head slowly. "I don't think so. Dumbledore was calling him 'Nicolas,' even when they thought they were alone."

Ron spoke up. "Sorry to break this theory roll you lot are on, but if Flamel is Smith, why would they put a giant dog over a trapdoor to guard something like dragon's blood? That bloke over there is selling it for twenty galleons a pint."

"Well… I don't know," admitted Hermione. "But at least we know that something isn't right about Nicolas Flamel. That's more than we knew before."

Harry seemed very puzzled and Hermione knew that very few things could puzzle Harriet Potter.

"Hermione… how _old_ did you say this Smith fellow was?"

"Oh erm... age one-hundred-thirty-seven," she said slowly. "Why?"

"Well… Flamel didn't look a day over forty. So if they are the same person, it definitely would have to be a disguise. Although... his eyes..." Harry sighed and pulled her hands through her bangs. "I just don't know anymore. We really need to get into the Restricted Section. If we can't find anything there, then I say we drop this whole business and let Snape kill himself trying to get past that dog."

"Hear, hear," said Ron joyously.

The fireworks that night were spectacular. Ron's face lit up with delight when one of them exploded hundreds of fairies that zoomed around the square. He threw an arm around her, pointing them out excitedly.

Hermione didn't think that the boy had realized he'd done it, so she leaned into him as inconspicuously as possible.

_Having friends is… nice._

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Ginny was staring down at her shoes. "I don't want you to leave. Quit school and go next year with me."

Harry knew Ginny wasn't being serious, but for a second, as her eyes met amber, she seriously considered it.

"Will you be at the station at the end of term?"

Ginny grinned at her. "Of course I will, silly. Will you write to me?"

She leaned out the window of the compartment and gave Ginny a bone-breaking hug. "Of course I will, silly. I'm missing you already."

The train started to move and their charms clinked together as they were forcibly pulled apart.

Ginny eyes flashed with that same unintelligible look that she'd seen on Christmas.

"Bye, Harry."

"Bye, Gin."

The train ride back was slow; almost excruciatingly so. Harry stared into space numbly as she listened to Neville prattle on about Herbology. She had no idea how he found it so interesting. All they did in that class was sit in a circle in the dirt as Professor Sprout produced dioramas from her wand. They hadn't even touched a magical plant yet.

Dinner that night was good, but… she missed Mrs. Weasley's food. She missed corned-beef sandwiches. She missed garlic potatoes. She missed rhubarb pie.

And most of all…

_I miss Ginny_.

It felt so strange not having the girl next to her as she ate, or as she walked back to the dormitory, or as she sat by the fire in the Gryffindor common room. They had spent every second together over the holiday and it felt a bit like she had lost an arm.

That night, Hermione had decided that they should make their attempt to gain entry into the Restricted Section. But seeing as they couldn't make their move until everyone else had gone to bed, it was a long wait; a long wait that Harry spent thinking about Ginny.

When the clock struck midnight, there was only a handful of students left in the common room.

Hermione was sitting in an armchair by the fire, reading one of the books Harry had gotten her for Christmas. Despite her rigid posture, it seemed as if she was dozing off. Harry lay in front of the bushy-haired girl, lazily playing a game of chess with Ron. She didn't care that he was slaughtering her. Her thoughts were far away; back at The Burrow.

"Cheer up, Harry. I know she's your best friend and you miss her, but you can write to her all you want the next few days. No classes until Monday."

Ron must have been reading her mind.

_Either that or I look miserable._

The boy chuckled as Hermione began to snore loudly. "Besides… you still have _me_ around."

Harry tried to laugh, but it sounded fake even to her own ears.

A sullen expression flashed across Ron's face.

Even though the look had been quick, Harry didn't miss it. She sighed, sat up, and punched his arm. "Don't be like that."

"Be like what?" he asked, his voice stiff.

"Like _that,_ you stupid plonker. You're jealous. Ginny and I… I dunno. It's just a different kind of best friend."

Ron looked a bit like he was winded. "I'm… I'm not _jealous_ of Gi-"

She punched his arm harder, cutting him off. "Don't lie. I know you too well. You're jealous and I'm telling you here and now that you don't need to be. If I had to stop seeing _you_ every day, I'd feel just the same and you know it. I don't even want to think about what it'll be like when I go back to the Dursleys without you."

"I'm not… well…" Ron ears went very pink as he trailed off.

Harry scooted forward, knocking pieces off the board as she clambered over it. Ron leaned back and looked away from her, face flushed bright red.

Sliding onto his lap, she wrapped him in the tightest hug she could manage.

"I'm telling you not to be, Ron."

Eventually, his body heaving with a resigned sigh, he returned her embrace. "I'm sorry. I just... I didn't want to be... forgotten."

She sat back and smiled at him. "I know."

Ron scratched his head. "I know you know. Why are you so perceptive all the time? It's bollocks, that's what it is."

"Some things can't be answered," she replied sagely, tapping the side of her nose. "I mean, why do you smell like grass all the time, even when there's no grass?"

"Do I?" He held the collar of his jumper up to his nose. "Oh that is weird. Maybe Mum does it?"

Waking up rather suddenly, Hermione shouted at the top of her lungs, "NOT A _DREADFUL!_" causing the few stragglers still lingering in the common room to send her odd looks.

When the clock struck one, a baggy-eyed sixth-year, who was the only remaining student apart from themselves, finally closed his book and went to bed.

At last they were alone.

Hermione stood up and said quietly, "I have a good feeling about tonight. Go get the cloak."

The large sweeping cloak hid all three of them, but only if they walked back to back.

At the entrance to the Library, Hermione yelped as Ron stepped on her foot.

"Shhh! Be quiet!" whispered Harry sharply. "If we get caught in the Restricted Section, we're done for."

She pulled open the library door and they all slid in soundlessly. The massive chamber looked eerie at night, lit only by the moonlight that streamed through the glass roof. The tall book shelves that stretched to the ceiling loomed like giant, shadowy sentinels.

As quietly as possible, they crept to the gate leading to the Restricted Section.

"Alohomora," whispered Hermione.

The lock clicked and the gate swung inward.

The Restricted Section was small... only two stacks containing twelve separate bookshelves... and yet something about it seemed… _not quite right. _It was if the very air around them was polluted with filth.

Harry walked in cautiously, Ron and Hermione following at her heels. As her eyes swept over a shelf off to her right, she gagged and quickly swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. The books were dripping with crimson liquid and she knew instinctively that it was blood.

"Alright," said Hermione shakily. "Lets split up and find alchemy books. Lumos." Hermione's wand tip glowed softly, illuminating the books around them. "You take that side, Ron. Harry, you get the far shelf."

Forgetting that she couldn't control her illumination spell, Harry lit her wand and a miniature sun exploded from the tip.

"Oi! Shut that off," Ron cried, shielding his eyes. "Harry, just… just stay with me in my light."

_Stupid bloody Lumos._

Grumbling, she stuck to Ron's shoulder and observed carefully as his wand light illuminated the rows of books upon the eighth shelf. She saw various titles that made her cringe, the tamest of which was The Art of Torture: Knives and Where to Put Them.

When the wand light fell across three, untitled, green tomes, Ron kept walking, but Harry froze in her tracks.

These books were… _whispering._

"_**Harry. You misss her. We can give her to you. Jusst… open uss…"**_

"_Do not lissten, Chica."_

"_**Your parentss live. We can sshow you the way…"**_

"_Liess sspeaker! Do not lissten! They lie!"_

"_**Love iss yourss. Open uss… and take it."**_

Feeling dazed, Harry reached toward them.

"_Sspeaker… Do not!"_

She felt neither the tight squeezing on her arm nor the teeth digging repeatedly into her flesh.

_I just want to see-_

A hand grabbed her wrist and wrenched her fingers backwards.

"Are you mad?" whispered Ron fiercely. "Those books are _hissing!_"

Harry came back to herself. Her arm was searing with pain. Once Ron had turned away, she rolled up her sleeve to reveal Alice slowly circling several, lightly-bleeding, fang-shaped wounds. There was a large bruise in the shape of a coil as well.

"_I am ssorry, Harry sspeaker. You would not lissten. The red Ron human hass ssaved you again where I could not."_

Hoping Ron wouldn't hear her, or would at least mistake her for the hissing books, Harry mumbled under her breath, "It's okay. You tried."

Rubbing the little snake's chin, she rolled her sleeve back down, now fully understanding that the Restricted Section was indeed restricted for a reason.

Harry and Ron were in the middle of intently searching the seventh shelf, when Hermione let out a soft gasp from across the room. They eagerly rushed to her side. The bushy-haired girl was holding the oldest looking book Harry had ever seen. It seemed to be a bit singed and the title was partially burned away, but Harry could still make out the words "old" and "magic."

Hermione lovingly stroked the cover. "This is the oldest book in the Library. They say it's the only history book that survived destruction when Salazar Slytherin lit the original Library on fire. It's written in Latin, but all the library books have been magically translated to modern English. I wanted to take it out for a bit of light reading before Christmas and I was sure Madame Pince would have let me remove it from its preservative case. But then you pulled me off to Hagrid's, Harry. We went flying afterwards… Do you remember? When I came back the next day to ask Madame Pince if I could borrow it, she told me it was unavailable."

Harry rubbed her glasses on her shirt. "Hermione, that's a wonderful story… but what on _earth_ does this have to do with Flamel? This book would have to be a thousand years old! That's _far_ too early for him, even if he _is_ one-hundred-thirty-something."

Hermione delicately began flipping the pages of the decrepit book. "Don't you understand, Harry? Madam Pince said it was unavailable, so I logically took that to mean that someone had checked it out. It's a non-restricted book, after all. Thousands of students have read it. It's not dark... and it's not at all dangerous. So why… _is it suddenly in the Restricted Section?_"

The girl paused and quickly searched the page she was on before triumphantly slamming her finger down upon a line.

Harry leaned forward.

_The Ancient Study of Alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

_There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his 665th birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (658)._

"Hermione!" Harry hugged her. "You're a genius! _That's_ what Fluffy is guarding, I'm sure of it."

Hermione nodded rapidly. "That's why he looks so young, Harry! He _is_ that young, but he's been that way for well over _sixteen-hundred_ years! He must have cast off his name centuries ago and is just now starting to use it again, thinking that enough time has passed for the name to disappear from the modern history books. And if Jackson Smith is his current disguise, it wouldn't stretch plausibility to assume that he _founded_ the Institute for Experimental Alchemy as Erik Adler and has been using different glamours to be the Headmaster ever since, hiding in plain sight."

Ron spoke up. "Blimey… no wonder he's been hiding. I'd hide too if I had a stone like that. People would be after it _all_ the time. Bet that's why he got it out of Gringotts and gave it to Dumbledore. Probably knew someone was about to-"

BANG

The sound of the Library doors flying open was so loud, it had probably woken half the castle.

As Hermione and Ron frantically Nox'd their wand tips, Harry snatched up the cloak from where she had dropped it and hastily threw it over their shoulders.

They crept out of the section as quietly as possible and were halfway to the Library's exit when Filch stepped around the corner.

They froze.

Filch stared right through them. His beady gaze was fixed upon the Restricted Section's gate.

_Oh no... We left it open!_

Filch hoisted his eighteenth-century lantern high above his head. "I knew it! _Students_ in the Restricted Section! I saw yer lights. I know yer in 'ere! Come out, come out, wherever you are…"

Harry nudged Ron under the cloak and tilted her head to the door. Ron took Hermione's hand and together, the three of them ducked around Filch's arm and made their way towards the entrance. Unfortunately, the door swung outwards with a loud, echoing creak.

Harry could hear Filch's footsteps pounding back towards the atrium.

"Run!" whispered Hermione frantically.

Just as they rounded the corridor's corner, Filch hobbled out of the library, shouting his head off.

"Where are you? Show yerself! Is that _you,_ Peeves? I'll send you to the Baron, I will! "

As they hurtled down the hall, Harry saw that the corridor was a dead end. And to her dismay, another voice could be heard conversing with Filch.

"Oh no," Ron moaned. _"Snape!"_

The only way out of their present situation was to either hide in an abandoned classroom and hope for the best, or walk back towards Filch, Snape, and likely expulsion. Harry logically chose the classroom, dragged Ron and Hermione inside, and shut the door softly behind them, pressing her ear against the wood.

Thankfully, Filch and Snape chose the opposite direction. She could hear their voices fading as they moved further and further away.

Harry was just about to breath a sigh of relief, when Hermione squeaked in breathy surprise and tugged anxiously on her sleeve.

She slowly spun about.

Leaning against the far wall of the musty, deserted classroom, standing as tall as the ceiling, was an enormous, gold-framed mirror that seemed extremely out of place. Odder yet, in front of this mirror stood none other than Albus Dumbledore… in a purple nightgown… and purple woolen socks. He was drawing his wand along the mirror and speaking in a tongue Harry had never heard the likes of.

"_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi." _

At the top of the mirror's frame, the strange words Dumbledore had just recited erupted in golden light.

"_Ecna lig ivoteri fym evigi."_ These words flared upon the glass, before soaking into the mirror's surface.

Dumbledore flourished his wand and commanded in a mighty voice, "_Eci rava ot tont surt." _These words too flashed and faded.

"_Suo utri veht ot edec."_

The Headmaster lowered his arms as the words upon both the mirror and the frame faded from view. Sitting down upon the floor, he stared into the mirror's depths, stroking his beard in thought.

"You know… I have found that silence, while blessed at times, is often quite displeasing to my ear. Come and sit with me, Harry."

_Bollocks. _

Harry threw off the cloak and walked forward whilst Hermione and Ron squawked loudly and made to cover themselves back up.

"I'm sorry, sir. I… I didn't-"

Dumbledore waved off her apology. "No matter. I trust there was a most _urgent_ emergency in the Library that needed your immediate attention… else you would have not deemed it prudent to break curfew?"

"Erm... well..."

"Let us make a deal. I shall not inquire as to your business there, if you do not inquire as to my business here."

Harry grinned. "That's a very generous offer, Professor Dumbledore… sir."

He winked at her. "Quite. Come… sit. Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, you may join us if you wish. The floor, while a tad chilly for an old man's bottom, is quite spacious and accommodating."

Harry heard Hermione moan nervously.

"There is no need to fear, young Hermione. Your thirst for knowledge is admirable and I assure you that, if you sit, I will attempt to quench it. Besides, I don't think it would be very Headmasterly of me to begin a tradition of expelling students whilst wearing my jim-jams."

Ron laughed loudly and ducked out from beneath the cloak. Shortly after, Hermione followed.

"Most excellent. Now, let us observe this fascinating mirror. Look there at the text on the frame. What do you see?"

Hermione entered into classroom mode and her hand shot up. Giggling, Harry pulled it back down.

Her bushy-haired friend blushed, but gave her answer anyway. "It looks like an early form of Latin, sir. It lacks structure and syllabic unity."

"Alas, Miss Granger, it is not."

Hermione looked a bit sullen, but Dumbledore went on to say kindly, "I myself thought the same when I encountered it for the first time. Harry, what do _you_ think it is?"

"Dunno… French?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "If only. And you, Ronald?"

Ron seemed surprised that the Headmaster was addressing him directly. "Ohh... erm... I couldn't tell you, sir. I only know English; poor English at that. Looks like gibberish to me."

"Correct."

Hermione spluttered indignantly.

Professor Dumbledore smiled and continued. "Without knowledge of this mirror's secrets, it is, quite literally, gibberish. It is, as all mirrors are, a reflection. It is a reflection of the idea of the Mirror's power itself. If you were to stand before it and view its images without knowing the meaning of the inscription at the top, you would not understand what it is you are being shown. In essence, we must first understand the gibberish to understand the images. And of course, to understand the gibberish, we must first understand the essence of all mirrors: reversal and reflection. Miss Granger, would you please reverse and re-space the mirror's engraving?"

Hermione began to mutter rapidly under her breath. "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. Ish... ownot…yourfa…cebutyo… urhearts... desire. Ishown otyourfa... OH! I show not your face, but your heart's desire!"

"Ah, well done! Now… knowing how to understand what you are shown, are any of you fine young Gryffindors brave enough to step before it? To truly know our heart's deepest, most _desperate_ desire has driven many far beyond the brink of sanity."

No one moved.

"No volunteers?"

"I'll… I'll go," said Ron finally. He stood and resolutely walked up to the mirror. His body visibly went slack from shock. "Bloody Hell! That's… That's me!" Ron turned from side to side, flexing his nonexistent muscles. "I'm Quidditch Captain! And Head Boy! And… And I won the House and Quidditch cups! Hey look! You guys are there, cheering... my family too! Harry, Mione, come look!"

They got up and crowded around him.

"I can't see anything except us," said Hermione slowly.

"Me neither," agreed Harry.

Ron pulled Hermione into the center. "Here look at it properly. See. Look at that! There's my Mum and Dad and- Mione?"

The bushy-haired girl had turned away rather quickly. When she attempted a second glance, Hermione moaned miserably, collapsed on the floor, and hid her face in her knees. "Oh my God! That's… That's not me! That can't be me!"

"Miss Granger?" asked Professor Dumbledore, waving his wand. A piping-hot cup of tea appeared before Hermione, floating in midair. "Would it be too bold of me to ask what it was that you saw?"

Hermione weakly shook her head. "It was me and... and Harry... and Ron. We… We were… We were doing to Sally Pews what she used to do to me… but… we were using magic! And I was just… I was just standing there... laughing at her. Oh God,_ that's not me!_"

Peering knowingly at Hermione, Professor Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles to clean them gently upon the hem of his nightgown. "Are you quite sure? I did say deepest and most desperate... but sometimes these desires are our _darkest_ desires as well. Ronald, overshadowed by his brothers and insecure in his self-image, sees himself as the most accomplished of the lot. And you, Hermione, picked on and tortured by the stronger, more popular children at your former school, now find yourself stronger than they could _ever_ wish to be. You, who now have friends that believe in you and would protect you at all costs, feel safe enough to dole out what you once received."

Hermione and Ron flinched at his every word.

"I do not mean to be cruel. Drink your tea and think on what I have said. If you truly believe that that girl isn't you; that you do not wish to return the pain that was inflicted upon you, then look once more into the mirror. Our deepest desires can change with the simplest thought or realization. Our desire evolves as we ourselves grow. Ten years from now, I highly doubt any of you would see the same vision."

Hermione stood up, steeled herself, walked back in front of the mirror, and after a long moment's pause, smiled widely. She turned to Harry and gave her a large hug. She then did the same to Ron. And then again to Professor Dumbledore, who seemed a bit shocked, but nonetheless placed his hand on the girl's head and lightly patted her hair.

"I take it you did not see Sally Pews?"

Hermione pulled back and smiled at him. "No, sir. And... And thank you."

Silence fell over the classroom as all pairs of eyes fell to Harry.

"I… I don't think I want to find out," she whispered slowly. "Not after that."

Ron spluttered. "Oi! _We_ did it! S'only fair!"

With a resigned sigh, Harry stepped before the ornate mirror... and gasped in shock.

Beyond the mirror's surface lay the classroom, but instead of being empty, it was filled to the brim with people; at least twenty. She immediately recognized Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in the back, as well as Bill, Charlie, and Percy. They waved to her, smiling kindly. Fred and George shot fireworks out of their wands that read, _"Welcome to the family."_

Strangely, they all looked so much older.

She stared around at the other people in the mirror. Some were redheads while some had hair exactly like her own... jet-black and wild. Aunt Petunia stood in the far corner with a little-black haired toddler that was clutching her hand and hiding shyly in the folds of the woman's dress. Petunia lovingly cupped the back of the little girl's head and they both waved at Harry.

At the front of the group stood a tall, handsome man with messy black hair that stuck up wildly right at the back of his head. He wore wire-frame glasses and his face was settled into a warm smile. The man had his arm wrapped around a very pretty, shorter woman with wavy, blood-red hair. She was leaning snuggly into the man's embrace. Her nose and mouth were small; delicate. Her cheekbones were high and pronounced. Her chin fell in a soft point. She had large, familiar, bright-green eyes.

It was as if Harry's own face stared back at her through the mirror; the same... yet completely different.

_"M-Mum?"_ she asked the glass in broken, breathy voice. _"Dad?"_

She reached out to touch them, placing her palm flat against the silver surface. The man raised his hand as well, touching it to the spot where her own rested.

James Potter's tanned hand dwarfed Harry's own, their palms only separated by the glass.

_Give them to me..._

Harry balled her fingers into a fist.

_Give them to me!_

She slammed her hand against the mirror as hard she could. Her skin tore on contact

_GIVE THEM BACK! _

Her knuckles collided with the glass over and over until they were bloodied and raw.

Ron rushed forward to restrain her. She fought wildly against his body, trying to get back to the mirror... back to her parents... but his hold was too strong. She pounded on his chest, sobbing into his robe. Her head was throbbing furiously. She felt wind whistling past her ears and through her hair. A loud crash rang out as several desks toppled out of their stacks.

Squeezing her tight, Ron whispered into her hair, "Harry. Harry, come back. Please?"

His words bounced around her brain like a rubber ball. The wind subsided and the pounding slowed. Her breathing evened and Ron's hold on her lessened.

Hermione's hand found her shoulder and squeezed. "Are you alright?"

Reaching up, Harry pushed the glasses out of her face and wiped furiously at her eyes with the sleeve of her Weasley jumper.

As Professor Dumbledore healed her hand with a gentle tap of his wand, she waved off their questioning glances and nodded.

"I'm… I'm fine, but... but I'm not done yet."

Walking shakily back to the mirror, her gaze swept over the last four people that were smiling and waving at her from the front of the group. They were all terribly familiar, yet at the same time looked like complete strangers.

To her mother's left, stood another redhead, but her hair was straight and cherry-red. She was several inches taller than Lily, her face was covered in freckles, and her intelligent, amber, gold-flecked eyes stared straight back into Harry's own. They were eyes that she knew as well as her own hand; eyes that flickered through the peaceful serenity of her mind augmented.

_Ginny?_

The young woman in the mirror, her gaze blazing with warmth, winked.

She watched with fascination as the older Ginny slid her arms around the waist of another woman next to her. They were the same height. This woman looked exactly like Lily, but she had hair just like Harry's; longer, straighter, but essentially the same. It even fell into her eyes in that same, frustratingly annoying way.

Harry's eyes bulged at the matching bracelets on both of their wrists.

_If that's Ginny, then this is… me?_

As Harry moved to get a closer look, she saw that there was a small, glowing mark shining just above each bracelet. She squinted to try and make it out... but the mark vanished.

_A reflection maybe?_

A tall, lean man with shaggy red hair and sparkling blue eyes reached around the black-haired woman and gently tweaked her ear. Mirror Harry punched him in the arm playfully and leaned into his shoulder.

Standing in the crook of the man's other arm was a truly beautiful young woman with thick, frizzy, brown hair. She was several inches taller than the other two girls and had legs that seemed to go on for miles. She seemed confident, sure of herself, and was rolling her eyes at the man beside her whilst simultaneously grinning and waving at Harry through the mirror.

It was the four of them... and they seemed... happy; far happier than Harry felt as she stared around at what she wanted to be her family.

"Harry?" Professor Dumbledore came up behind her. "You must understand that what The Mirror of Erised has shown you, what _all_ of you have seen, is _not_ the future. None of these things are certain, but knowing what you truly desire may lead you down the path… to _achieve_ it.

Harry nodded and felt brave enough to ask, "Professor Dumbledore, sir, what… what do _you_ see in the Mirror?"

"I? You, Harry, who have seen into my mind; you, who have viewed the memories that are always lurking in my thoughts, cannot fathom what _I_ might see in the mirror?"

Harry shrugged.

The Headmaster smiled and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Then let us say, for convenience's sake, that I see myself holding a nice pair of thick, woolen socks." He wiggled his toes. "One can never have enough socks, you see. Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't receive a single pair."

Harry grinned up at him and said, "I'll be sure to send you some next year, Professor."

"That is most kind of you, Harry… Most kind indeed."

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Molly picked up Ginny's and Arthur's plates and went to wash them in the sink. Dinner had been far too quiet that night. Her daughter, usually loud and boisterous, had sat picking at her food; not eating anything. Her eyes had been puffy and her cheeks red from where she had been rubbing them on the long ride home. It was strange... Her little girl so rarely cried. Even as a newborn, she had barely shed a tear.

Arthur's large hands slid around her waist and his lips pressed a light kiss to her ear. "Mollywobbles, what's wrong?"

She continued to scrub the plates fiercely. "I don't know, Arthur. It's Ginny… I've never seen her so upset; not even when we told her she couldn't go with Ron to school."

Arthur leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms. "Well, she's never had anyone but her brothers and that odd little Lovegood girl that pops around occasionally. She's certainly never had a friend like Harry before, Molly. They were attached at the hip for nearly three weeks and now they won't see each other until June. Even then it will only be for a few minutes. After that, they can't see each other until the end of July. That's more than half a year, dear. I'm not at all surprised she's upset."

"How did it happen, Arthur? Three weeks and they're closer than Fred and George."

"Not for the life of me could I tell you that, Molly. But it's the way is. Why don't we take her somewhere? Get her out of the house. Maybe a Harpies match?"

She turned and leaned into his arm. "We barely got by this year. There's no way we could afford something like that. We'll have five children in school next year. We need to save up."

"Well... I could ask around at work. Plenty of people in Games and Sports owe me favors."

"Ask away, but… Weasleys aren't beggars, Arthur. Neither are Prewetts."

Finishing with the plates, she pulled her husband out of the kitchen to the edge of the dining room. She peered out into the parlor where Ginny was sitting in an armchair, staring into the fire. She wasn't crying, but her eyes glistened with a sheen of moisture.

"I hate seeing her like this, Arthur. Go and see what you can do. I'll put on some tea."

When Molly finally reentered the sitting room, she found her husband sitting in the armchair with Ginny asleep on his lap. Putting the tea tray down on the coffee table, she knelt down next to them and brushed the hair out of Ginny's face. Placing a soft kiss on her angel's temple, she whispered, "She looks so much like Fabian and Gideon, doesn't she? Much softer and feminine of course, but the face is the same. It… It … It just kills me to see her so-"

Arthur shushed her and wiped her cheek. "I know, love. We just need to be here. That's all we can do."

Molly nodded and kissed him fiercely, their only daughter sleeping soundly between them. Before her eyes had fluttered closed, she thought she had seen a small glowing light on Ginny's arm, but when she opened them, pulling away from her husband's kiss, there was nothing but smooth, freckled skin.

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**Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page. Contains some NSFW content.**

**Questions answered on the review board.**

**Soo… Review!**

**Looking for someone to Beta-grammar specific**

_Once again, this is not a soulbond fic._

_Sorry it took so long everybody. Long chapter though. Wanted to get it perfect._


	7. Chapter 6: The Darkness Rising

This chapter should close out book one. I'm really excited to start CoS, my favorite book in the series apart from DH. PARSELTONGUE FUN AHOY.

Thanks for sticking with me everybody. I've got nearly 400 visitors on average to each chapter!

**xxxxxx **

**THIS CHAPTER IS BOTH LIGHT AND _DARK_. REAL MONSTERS EXIST IN THE REAL WORLD AND YOU ARE MEANT TO BE ABSOLUTELY _DISGUSTED_ BY CERTAIN CHARACTERS. I MEANT WHAT I SAID IN THE WARNING BY SENSITIVE THEMES.**

**xxxxxx**

**Chapter 6: The Darkness Rising**

_The thunder faded._

_The jungle was silent. After the avalanche, a green peace. After the nightmare, morning._

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Her fingers peeled eagerly at the little wax seal with the Hogwarts Crest.

_Harry! HarryHarryHarry! HARRY!_

Ginny, her heart pounding with excitement, wrenched open the large piece of folded parchment.

_Dear Ginny,_

_WE WON! SNAPE WAS REFEREEING AND WE WON! And in about two minutes too!_

Circe, who had resumed her customary perch, hooted indignantly as Ginny jumped up, whooping loudly.

_I saw the Snitch lose its invisibility charm right over Snape's greasy head. I caught it and no one had even put the Quaffle between the posts! It was the shortest match in Hogwarts' history. Even Oliver was complaining about the win; he told me that next game I should, 'Keep my knickers on and give the rest of them some play time!' It was bloody fantastic. _

_Oh! Ron and I both socked Draco! Whenever I'm not around, Draco is still such a berk to Ron and Hermione. He said something to Ron during the game and then your brother decked him. I heard from Neville that he'd never seen anything more beautiful than Draco falling on top of Pansy with a bloody nose. Ron's still in the Hospital Wing because Crabbe and Goyle went to work on him, but he said it was worth it. After the game, Draco came back up to me and was back to his friendly, yet annoyingly arrogant self. Hermione came over and told him to shove off. He called her something and she ran off crying. Mud-blood was the name I think. He must have realized he slipped up in front of me, because he looked all guilty-like. Then I decked him! Punching people hurts. Poor Draco. Two bloody noses in one day... and one from a girl. Four days later and he still looks like a raccoon._

_Snape's been awful since the match. He gave me detention because my cauldron was bubbling loudly. I had to scrub out the excess potion in the NEWT Level dungeon. Without magic. My knees were stinging and changing colors the entire next day. What a stupid bugger. What's more is that I've seen him all over the place, swooping like a bat after Professor Quirrell. I think he's threatening him. Hermione reckons there's more guarding the Stone than just Fluffy. The fact that he's only after Quirrell for information must mean he can get past everything except the dog and Quirrell's defense. But Fluffy is still in there. We check every time we go past the door._

_Fred and George have been torturing Snape. They put all sorts of little tricks outside his office. They put a little tube of shampoo right outside his door too. It said, 'don't forget to wash behind the ears.' It was good fun to watch him go ballistic. I wish this year was over though. It feels like it's inching by. How are things at the Burrow?_

_Missing you,_

_Harry _

Ginny flopped forwards onto her bed. The owl on her head was thrown off into the air. It fluttered madly about the room, before settling on her bottom. She sighed into her pillows, losing herself as she listened to the fat droplets of March rain pound against the glass of her window.

_I miss you too._

She lay there for what seemed like hours, stroking the head of Harry's beautiful owl, until her mother called up the stairs. "Ginny, dear! I need you."

With a tremendous groan Ginny pushed herself off the bed and gave the owl one final pet. "Stay here, girl."

Mum was, as usual, bustling about the kitchen preparing dinner. The woman really did love to cook and she was brilliant at it. Ginny, on the other hand, had no talent whatsoever in the kitchen. She had inherited the Weasley clumsiness for preparing food, not the Prewett genius.

Her mother raked a tired hand through her frizzy hair and asked, "Can you start chopping those vegetables for the stew? There's a good girl." Mum paused in her bustling, squinting at Ginny's midsection. "Oh my, your father's illusions do last, if anything. I keep seeing little bits of leftover light on your arm from those Christmas fairies.

"Harry did say they stuck to me like glue." Ginny had a sudden vision of Harry smiling brilliantly and brushing fairies off her shoulder.

Mum nodded softly. "How _is_ Harry? She and Ron not getting into too much trouble I hope. I do wish that boy would write more... Well, perhaps not… I don't think Errol would be up for the trips."

"She's… good. Professor Snape's giving her a rough time of it and she… well, she wants the year to be over. So do I."

As Ginny drew it absentmindedly across a carrot, the knife she was holding nicked lightly into her thumb. She didn't know why, but that little cut hurt more than a little cut should. It sliced deep; straight to her heart. Ginny tried and failed to muffle the sob that bubbled up from her throat.

"_Oh dear_... My baby girl." Mum's arm slipped around her shoulders and Ginny was pulled into a warm embrace. "It'll be alright. Before you know it, you'll see each other again and it will be all the sweeter because of this." Her mother knelt down on one knee and wiped the trail of tears away from Ginny's eyes. Their forehead's touched gently. "I love you… _so_ _much, _Ginevra. I'm _so_ happy you found a friend that finally understands you; that you care about this much. You go ahead and cry, darling; my only girl of _seven._ You've held it in for so many years, baby. I'm right here. We Weasleys put on a brave face, but sometimes, we just need to let it all go."

In the middle of the kitchen floor they sat, Ginny didn't know for how long, her face buried in the apron over her mother's dress. She didn't even hear her father come back from work, only smelled his light, sandalwood aftershave; only felt him sink down next her, his large arm draping around both her and Mum.

When the pot on the stove started to bubble over, her father stood, holding out his hands for both of them. He picked Ginny up and carried her in one arm, just like he used to when she was small. "An evening alone with my two favorite girls – there isn't a luckier man in the world."

Ginny couldn't help but squeal and squirm when he tickled her bare feet.

As they walked out of the kitchen, Mum squealed like she _too_ was eleven, blushing as red as her hair. "Arthur!" she cried, rubbing her bum.

Ginny gagged.

The following weeks passed by at a snail's pace. Her life was as exciting as watching paint dry. Between chores, sleeping, reading Mum's books, and tending to her strawberry patch, she did very little. And even the last was dull. You could only pull out so many weeds.

She would go for a fly every now and then, but found that it didn't have as much appeal alone as it did when she flew with Harry or her brothers; that… and the broom she used was about eighty years old. Visiting Luna or getting a letter from Harry were the most exciting parts of her weeks. Luna was rarely around; always off with her father as he collected stories for his newspaper. And Circe… well, not even the strongest owl in the world could manage more than two or three trips a week from the southernmost tip of England to the upper regions of Scotland. Especially not during this time of year; it was all rain… not even warm rain; freezing pneumonia inducing rain.

Harry tried to keep her as up to date as she could about the goings on at Hogwarts; her letters always long and fat. Ginny herself could never write more than a half a roll of parchment before she had covered every interesting bit of her life. After that, she would ramble for a roll or two.

Harry told her of how she was studying all hours of the day due to Hermione's exam zeal; how Hagrid was keeping a dragon egg in his wooden hut; how Quidditch practice was a nightmare now that they were in the lead for the House cup; how Draco Malfoy could be such an arse one second and then so friendly the next; how Ron and Hermione never stopped bickering; how History and Herbology were less interesting than watching paint dry; how Pansy Parkinson had seen the dragon in Hagrid's hut and had told Draco, who was dangling the information over Harry's head to get her to talk to him; how Harry missed her. Every letter she sent had those words etched at the bottom.

It was late Wednesday night as she sat in bed, reading Gilderoy Lockhart's Trouble with Trolls, when Harry's most interesting letter arrived.

_Dear Ginny,_

_We need to get rid of Norbert. He's getting much too large to hide in Hagrid's cabin. It even bit Hermione! Her leg is all swollen and green. We were thinking Charlie could help take him off our hands in secret. If anyone finds out Hagrid has a dragon, he'll get sacked. There is an attached letter to Charlie with yours. Could you send it on? I told him to send Circe back to you, and then you can send her back to me._

_Missing you more than ever,_

_Harry_

Ginny quickly took out the attached note and tied it to Circe's leg, who surprisingly hadn't sat on her head. It seemed to know that these letters were urgent.

"Take this to Charlie, girl."

The owl hooted, nipping her finger affectionately before it took off into the night.

_There's no way I'll be able to sleep tonight._

She spent the next two days with her head elsewhere... far away... at Hogwarts. On Friday morning, Mum had decided she'd weed the garden and instead of lying in bed for hours like she usually did, Ginny got up to help her.

It was a breezy April's day; the beginning of spring, so the garden needed a good weeding. She was absentmindedly pulling out plants when a familiar voice made her jump. "Aren't you supposed to pull out the weeds, rather than the strawberries?"

Her plants were indeed mangled, but she didn't care. She hopped up into her brothers arms and yelled happily, "Charlie! What are you doing here?"

He twirled her around before setting her back down. "Special chore at Hogwarts. I was going to stay in Romania and let my friends take care of it, but since this beautiful bird here was coming back to you, I thought I'd Portkey over with her for a visit and go up with them. She didn't like the ride I can tell you that." Circe was stamping around Charlie's head indignantly, pecking at his ears. "Oi! Bloody bird. I've got to send a reply to Hogwarts."

She looked over at Mum who had yet to notice that her son was home. "Sooo… will you bring the dragon back here?"

Charlie spluttered in shock. "How do you know about- wait- of course you know. Harry would've told you. Closer than peas in a pod you two are. But no… we'll head straight back to Romania with the Ridgeback. Can't very well have a lizard that breathes fire at the Burrow," he said lightly, gesturing at the wooden house.

"Can I co-"

"Charlie! You're home! Whatever for dear?"

Ginny watched lamely as her mother grabbed Charlie and pulled him into the house, fussing over his scruffy chin and long shag of hair.

She couldn't get her brother out from under Mum's eye for the rest of the day and ever since their mother had barged in on him at Christmas Charlie had been locking his bedroom door at night. Saturday was the same and when Charlie's friends arrived at the Burrow that night, she knew she would have to resort to drastic measures.

Her plan was flawless. She excused herself from the rowdy dinner with Charlie's companions, saying she didn't feel well and was going to bed early. She grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder from the mantle and rushed upstairs to her bedroom. Pulling out one of her new quills, she scratched out a quick note.

_Dear Mum,_

_Gone to Hogwarts. Following Charlie. You can punish me all you want when I get back, but I'm going to see Harry. No, she didn't ask me to come. I'll take the Floo home tomorrow morning. I've got a little pinch of it in a napkin. I'll be back just a few hours after you wake up. I know you're angry reading this note, but please don't make a fuss and get Harry into trouble. I just need to see her for a bit._

_Love,_

_Ginny_

She put the note on her pillow and watched through the window as Charlie and his friends spilled from the house, pulling out their broomsticks. Ginny opened the window as quietly as she could and crawled out. There was a fat ledge just outside it that she could drop down onto the roof from, along with a trellis down to the ground just below that. Sometimes Ginny thought her father had _known_ she would be the kind of person that did things like this and that he had built her room here just to make it easy for her.

Climbing out like a cat, she slid belly first along the grimy, slimy ledge.

_I'm going to be filthy. _

Unfortunately for her, the trellis down to the ground was soaked from yesterday's rain and she lost her footing halfway. Tumbling through the briar, she landed with a loud thud on the muddy ground.

_Ow. _

There was no time to dwell on pain. Ginny could still see Charlie's group in the distance, but they were just tiny specks. She pulled herself up and ran to the broomshed as fast as her legs could carry her. Wrenching out her father's broomstick, she leapt on and soared up into the night.

Ginny followed Charlie and his friends at a distance, but never far enough to lose them in the darkness. They flew for hours and hours. On any other day, she would have been exhausted staying up this late, but tonight she was wide awake, her body tingling with adrenaline... _with excitement._

Charlie drifted beneath a cloud and when she too passed through it, her heart caught in her chest. The castle had come into view; it was large and black against the starry skyline. The group in front of her sailed to the top of the tallest tower. She followed them, but cautiously flew around the length of the castle so they wouldn't see her approach.

Ginny landed on the roof behind a giant telescope.

"Oh wow, Charlie. Look at the serrated fangs. Gorgeous! Rare on a Ridgeback. I take it it's venomous then?"

"Oh Aye."

_Ron!_

"It poisoned our friend Hermione last week. She only just got out of the Hospital wing."

_Harry! I'm here._

Creeping to the edge of the telescope, she slowly peered around the corner. Charlie and his four friends were laughing and joking loudly as they rigged a large thrashing cage into a harness between their brooms.

_There she is. _

Ron was poking the cage with a toe, his arm resting on Harry's shoulder.

_She looks older with her hair up like that. _

Harry, it seemed, had attempted to recreate the look Ginny had tried on her at Christmas with her bangs tied back behind her head in a braid.

Ginny giggled.

_Nice try, Harry. I'll do it for you properly._

Charlie and his friends thanked Harry and Ron and flew off into the night.

Ron let out a great sigh as they turned into a tiny speck against the moon. "Nutters. The lot of them."

"You can say that again."

The sound of Harry's tinkling giggle made Ginny smile. Her laugh was so infectious.

_I've missed that laugh. _

She was about to leap out and shout for their attention, but before she had moved an inch, the door to the tower swung open with a bang.

Ron and Harry whirled around to face a sweaty balding man in a trench coat, accompanied by a mangy black cat. He was carrying a lantern that looked as if it hadn't been cleaned or polished in centuries.

"Oh dear… little Gryffindors are ou' for a stroll under the stars. What _will_ McGonagall think? Come on… the both of yeh… Get." He pushed them down the stairs.

After the door was safely closed, Ginny darted out from behind the telescope, grabbing Harry's invisibility cloak up off the stone floor. Throwing it over her shoulders, she hastily ran after them.

Ginny was amazed by the castle. She found herself stopping to stare at the moving staircases and the dueling suits of armor and the ghosts floating through walls. She lost track of Harry and Ron several times and she had to run wildly through the halls to find them again. They stopped at last next to a painting on the ground floor and entered a small study.

Already inside was a stern-looking woman accompanied by a slightly chubby, brown-haired boy. When Harry and Ron arrived with the bald man, the woman's face turned bright red and she shouted, "MORE? Four first year students out of bed in one night? This is unacceptable!"

After they received what was, judging by Ron's desperate pleading, a very serious punishment, Ginny followed them back to a cozy room inside a painting; what she supposed was the Gryffindor common room.

"One hundred and fifty points," moaned Harry. "We're going to be murdered in our beds."

"At least we'll be in bed though," Ron argued wryly. "I'm bloody exhausted. Thanks for trying to help us out, Nev. But in hindsight… walking around in plain sight at night wasn't the brightest idea."

The chubby boy... Nev... gave a small laugh and shrugged.

Harry bid them goodnight and Ginny followed her up the stairs. Everyone else in the girl's dorm seemed to be asleep. Ginny saw Hermione with her leg up, wrapped in bandages. Harry yawned tiredly, threw off her robe, and slouched into a magnificent bathroom off the side of the dorm.

Ginny slipped inside, closed the door softly behind her, turned, pulled off the cloak, and dove.

"HARRY!"

Unfortunately, Harry had been pulling off her skirt, one leg in and one leg out, so, as Ginny collided with her in a hug, they both toppled unceremoniously into a tub with a tumultuous splash. Coming up for air, Harry's hair was everywhere as the girl spluttered with shock. Reaching over, Ginny parted the soaked, black curtain with two fingers.

Green eyes stared back at her incredulously.

"Hey, Harry," said Ginny nonchalantly, unable to stop a ridiculous grin from spreading across her face.

Harry's expression rapidly morphed from shock, to happy surprise, to absolute joy.

"Gi- GINNY!"

The girl surged through the water and crushed into her body, squeezing her tightly.

As Harry's arms wrapped around her, Ginny's heart did flips. It felt like she had just come home after a very long and exhausting day.

Harry pulled back, shaking Ginny's shoulders with uncontrolled excitement. "How did you… why did you… oh Gin!"

Her friend pulled her back through the water and onto her lap.

Sighing with exhaustion, Ginny wrapped both arms and legs around her and they sat quietly, embracing in the warm bath.

Ginny, who was nuzzled into Harry's neck, was the first to break the silence. "I was going crazy at home. So I… I followed Charlie. You left your invisibility cloak up on the tower and I used it to follow you back here." She ran her fingers gently through the hair at the back of Harry's neck. "With you gone, it... it felt like I had lost a leg."

Harry giggled, pushing her back to look into her eyes. "Only a leg? It felt like I had lost an arm! Arms are much more important than legs."

"Nunh unh. You can't barrel roll over a chaser without a leg."

"Yuh hunh. You can't catch a snitch without an arm. I missed you more. So there." Harry splashed her.

"Nunh unh." She splashed Harry back.

"Yuh HUNH!" Harry said, jumping on her to resume their still undecided Christmas tickle fight. They thrashed about in the water, laughing madly and quite literally flooding the bathroom.

Ginny eventually managed to gain the upper hand, straddle her, and go for the instant win button.

Harry's shrieks and sobs of laughter echoed about the tile as Ginny dug her fingertips behind her friend's knees.

"NO," the black-haired girl squealed loudly, "NO FAIR!"

Ginny shook her head bemusedly. "Oh Harry… all's fair in love and tickle war!"

Harry squirmed and trembled with such intense giggles that her glasses flew off into the bath water. Deciding to show just a little mercy, Ginny relented in her assault, long enough for Harry to find them again. This turned out to be a very bad idea. With surprising deftness and strength, the older girl flipped on top of her and reversed their positions, holding Ginny's arms pinned above her head. Their charms clinked together and Harry leaned down to pant against her neck.

"You'll pay for that one, Gin," breathed Harry shakily, lips tickling Ginny's ear.

Ginny shrugged. "Hmmmmm… worth it."

Harry's hands slid down her arms and encircled her at the shoulders. She felt Harry's body sag against her own and they floated upwards. When Harry spoke, her voice quavered with… relief. "Ginny, I… I missed you so much. There would be… entire _days_ that I would just stare at my charm, watching it always point south. I can't believe you came… I…" Harry went rigid on top of her and moaned miserably. "_GIN!_ Your Mum is going to kill you! Then she's going to kill me! And then she'll kill you again!"

Ginny nodded her agreement into Harry's shoulder. "Hmmmmm… again… worth it." It was true. Harry made her feel so happy. To Harry, she wasn't a little sister… she was a best friend… a partner… an equal. Before she could stop herself, she turned her head and placed a soft kiss on her friend's cheek. "I'd do it again."

Harry sat up quickly, causing water to rush onto Ginny's chest to occupy the space where her body had just been. She was rubbing her cheek lightly; green eyes open wide with shock, staring into her own. "You… You kissed me." Harry's voice was unsure, as if she questioned the reality of the situation. "No one's… no one has ever… well…" She trailed off.

Ginny realized the significance of what she had just done and said nervously, "Oh… yea I… I guess I did." She raked her mind for something to say... then grinned. "I… I told you that you could tell all the boys I kissed you first… and… Well, I… I missed you, Harry."

With the water sloshing between them, Harry's eyes searched her face wildly, looking for… something. Whether she found it or not, Ginny didn't know, but Harry nodded, leaning back down to give her a return peck on the cheek.

And it was at that moment… that the bathroom door swung open. Harry quickly pushed down on Ginny's shoulders so her head fell beneath the rim of the tub. She clambered on top of her, black hair tickling her face, obstructing her body from view.

"Oh… you're up late, Harry," said an unfamiliar voice.

"Hey, Parvati…yeah… Potion's essay. I want to get it perfect so the greasy git doesn't feel the need to rip it up in front of the whole class… again."

Ginny heard one of the stall doors shut, her face pressing into Harry's shirt.

_Smells like burnt charcoal._

"I don't know why he treats you like that. It's ridiculous. You're brilliant at Potions."

When the stall door opened again the voice asked, "Say… why are you still in your clothes?"

She felt Harry's body tense. "Oh um… I fell in… not used to skirts and all."

Parvati giggled. "Understandable. Well, goodnight, Harry."

"Night." The bathroom door opened and closed. "That was close." When Harry sat back, she seemed contemplative. "It's strange, separately Lavender and Parvati are so nice… but together, they can be bigger bints than Pansy Parkinson… if that's possible."

Ginny shrugged. "You smell like burnt hair, Harry. Take a bath." She splashed some water up onto Harry's face.

Harry smirked. "You should talk; you're covered in dirt and your clothes are all ripped. What, were you attacked by birds?"

"Er no… I climbed off the roof… Well, actually I fell off the roof... through the thorn bushes."

"_Smooth_." Harry giggled and stood, stripping off her clothes with impunity.

"Shut it," Ginny said, poking her in the belly. "It hurt." She too stood and pulled off her tattered clothing.

"Ouch Gin… you're all cut up." Harry's hand brushed lightly across her leg.

Looking down, Ginny saw that she did indeed have several thin scratches across her torso and legs. "I didn't even notice."

"Sit down… let me clean up the ones on your back."

As Harry's hands gently ran the soap across her skin, Ginny began to realize her exhaustion. The soap stung, but Harry's touch was soothing and she slumped against the side off the tub. "I'm so tired. Do you know what time it is?" She groaned as the soap passed along her lower back.

"After three I expect. Why?" Harry got some shampoo from the tap and started to run her hands through Ginny's tangled hair.

"I should be back home by eight so Mum doesn't go ballistic. I've got some Floo powder with my broom."

"What's Floo powder?" Harry asked curiously, the tips of her fingers scrubbing lightly behind Ginny's ears.

"It's... oh Merlin... that feels great… It lets you travel by fireplace. Can't use it to get to Hogwarts though. The fireplaces here are only one way. Although… I think you can appeal to the ministry for a special connection."

Harry's hands paused. "Could I… could I do that? And then… you could visit all the time."

"It's usually for emergencies so probably not." She made little concentric ripples in the water. "But… I could sneak out again. I could just follow the charm."

She wanted to do it. She knew Harry wanted her to do it as well. But Harry slowly shook her head, her wet hair slapping lightly against Ginny's neck. "No, you're going to be in enough trouble as it is. Your Mum is probably going to lock the brooms up."

Harry finished with her hair and Ginny turned and did the same for her. "I'll fix your hair proper when we're out. You made a right mess of it."

"Oi… it wasn't _that_ bad," Harry cried in mock hurt.

Ginny grinned. "Yeah… okay. Hey Harry, where's Alice?"

Harry tilted her neck so Ginny could get at the roots of her hair. "I let her explore the school at night. She stays in the shadows… but I'm secretly hoping Mrs. Norris tries to attack her. That cat has it coming."

Ginny couldn't help but giggle. "Harry, that's terrible."

"You won't think so next year," laughed the black-haired girl. "She's a nightmare, turns up wherever you don't want her to be."

"Maybe you shouldn't be out of bounds so much then, huh?"

Harry gestured around the room. "You've seen this castle… how could I stay in bounds with so much craziness going on? I love it here… almost as much as your house. Also Alice… Well, if snakes can be gossip hounds… then that's what she is. She told me that she found a 'red twin boy human' in a closet with a 'black tall girl human' and that they were both on the Quidditch team. She was so proud of herself. If only I could figure out if it was Fred or George with Angelina… I'd have blackmail material for ages. That is… _if_ any of them ever speak to me again. One hundred and fifty points! I hate Draco so much right now; the bugger ratted us out."

"I thought he was _desperately_ in love with you," Ginny teased.

"Ew gross." Harry slapped her lightly on the knee. "No… I don't know what he's playing at. Maybe revenge for giving him a black eye? Let's finish up… I'm getting all pruney."

After they washed thoroughly, Harry stepped out of tub and picked up her discarded wand. "Tepido," she said, pointing at Ginny.

A great rush of warm air swirled around her, drying her body completely.

Repeating the charm on herself and their clothes, Harry sighed happily and said, "I love magic."

Harry's voice had grown quieter while they lay in her bed, talking softly about nothing in particular. They had lain there awake for at least an hour; Ginny fiddling with Harry's hair, braiding it into tiny patterns and weaves.

_I think she fell asleep._

When Harry squirmed underneath her hands, Ginny drew the curtains and lay down next to her, listening to her soft moans and pants.

"Harry…" Ginny said, softly shaking the girl's shoulder.

Harry didn't respond so she shook her again, harder.

"Mmmm?" Harry pushed the small of her back into Ginny's stomach and stuck a leg between her knees. "Wuzwrng?"

"Harry?" she asked, squeezing her friend's waist. "What can I do to help? You're… you're moaning again.

"Huwhuh?" Harry turned to face her. Her eyes were only open halfway, but Ginny could see deep pools of emerald filling the whole space beneath her lids. When their eyes met, Harry seemed to wake fully. "Gin?"

"Harry, you're panting and groaning. It's scaring me." Ginny brushed a little hair from Harry's face, which was glistening with sweat.

Harry sighed heavily and looked purposefully away from her. "I… forgot about that." She raised a hand and placed it palm first on her forehead. "Merlin… Look, it isn't… it isn't a bad feeling. I promise."

She cuddled into Harry's side and tugged at her ear, getting the girl to look back at her. "Why does it only happen when I'm around?"

Harry shook her head fervently and placed a hand over top her own. "Gin… can this… can this be our _one_ secret? I just don't want to… You'll _hate_ me if I tell you. I can't lose you.

Ginny clenched Harry's t-shirt and pulled her all the way round. "Harry, I could _never_-"

But Harry cut her off, cupping the back of her neck. They were nose to nose. The girl's irisless green eyes were wet with tears. "Please, Ginny… just this one thing; the only thing... I promise. Besides, you'll… you'll figure it out anyway… eventually."

Ginny couldn't argue with Harry's pained, pleading look. After several moments of internal fighting, she nodded. "Okay, but… will you tell me when I figure it out anyway?"

Harry held out her pinky. "I promise. If you still want to be around me that is."

Ginny took it with her own and they shook. "Don't be an idiot… of course I will."

Harry however, did not seem convinced. She opened the curtains and looked at the grandfather clock standing up against the dormitory wall. "Almost five. Do you… do you think you can sleep through it? If not, we can just stay awake."

"Yeah, I think I can. Mum says I can sleep through a thunderstorm if I'm having good dreams."

Harry giggled lightly. "I'll stay up until you fall asleep then."

Ginny turned over on her side, pulled Harry's arm around her, and whispered so softly that she didn't think the black-haired girl had heard her. "I could never hate you."

Closing her eyes, she sank into the warm bed and the even warmer embrace.

Within what seemed like minutes, she was awake again. Light streamed in through the crack in the curtains. It took her a second to recognize the bed she was in; to recognize the arm wrapped around her; to recognize the leg draped over top her own; to recognize the heavy panting breath on her neck; to recognize the hips that were sliding softly and slowly against her bum.

Smirking, Ginny reached behind her and wiggled her fingers in Harry's knee.

With a great heave and a squeal, her friend jumped awake, nearly throwing Ginny out of the small bed.

Ginny turned and rolled over onto the girl's stomach, laughing. "Shhhh. I'm sorry," she whispered into her best friend's ear. "I couldn't resist."

Ginny watched as the green of Harry's eyes was sucked back to the center, as if it was water flowing down a drain. Pupils faded into view. Harry was doing her best to glare at her. "I'll get you back. Just you wait. Can you get my glasses? They're on the dresser."

Ginny reached out of the curtains and plucked them off the little wooden set of drawers. She froze at the sight of the grandfather clock. _Eight fifteen! _"No… I don't want to go yet," she moaned, as she pulled her head back into the bed.

Harry's face fell sharply. "Then don't go."

"I want to stay!" she cried out.

"Then stay."

"But I can't!" Her shoulders slumped as she said it.

"I know.

She dove on top of Harry, hugging as tightly as she could. Hands wove their way into her hair and she was hugged just as tight. She knew the longer she stayed here, the more likely her mother would kill her.

She pawed at Harry's neck and buried her nose into the soft cotton of the T-shirt beneath her. She didn't want to move.

"I'll miss you, Gin."

"Yeah." She nodded fiercely against the cotton. "I miss you already."

The Burrow was quiet when she returned. Her mother was sitting in an armchair across from the fire as she did a bit of knitting. She didn't look up as Ginny approached. Ginny braced herself for the certain explosion.

But it didn't come.

"Er… hello, Mum. I'm-"

"I will say this one thing, Ginevra, since you will bear any punishment I dole out with pride on your face." The tone of her mother's voice was like ice down her spine. "If you ever do something like this again, you will _never_ be allowed to go to Hogwarts. If you ever do something like this again, I will not allow Harry in this house and you will _never_ see her again. _Do I make myself clear?_"

Her heart almost dropped out of her chest. "Yes, Mum."

"Good. Now go to your room. I don't want to see your face again until your father gets home."

Ginny turned on the spot and dashed up the stairs as quickly as her feet could carry her.

0000

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Ron was furious. His fists ached to pound the smirk off Malfoy's face, but he didn't think beating the stuffing out of the poncey little bastard in front of Filch would be the best idea. What infuriated him the most, is that ever since Malfoy told her about Snape jinxing her broom, Harry had started to tolerate this… arse.

_My Harry would have jinxed him into oblivion ages ago._

"Why'd you bloody do it, Draco?" whispered Harry heatedly. "You knew you'd get caught as well. You're every terrible thing I can think of… but you're not stupid. You lost us one hundred and fifty points."

"Oh yes, Harry…" Malfoy drawled, "because I _so_ care about _Gryffindor's_ chances for the House Cup. Well… for several reasons I suppose. One, your loss of points will most likely put Slytherin in the lead for the House cup. I'll be regaled as a hero. Two, I had to pay you both back for the punches."

Malfoy leaned down to Harry's ear but Ron still heard him. "Three, because I wanted to spend time with you away from Pansy's nattering."

He straightened back up and said loudly, "And four… because there's nothing I enjoy more in this world, than pissing off Weasel here."

Ron spun and raised his fist, but Harry stepped between them and shook her head fiercely, nodding at Filch. He lowered his fist and Malfoy sneered at him. "Control your dog, Harry."

Before he could retaliate properly, Harry had her wand out and was pressing it into Malfoy's neck. She whispered fiercely to him as she pulled him along after Filch. "Just try me, Draco. _Try me._ I don't know why you've stopped making an effort to do what you said you'd do… and I don't know what started this little bastard streak you have going on, but I've just about had enough. One more word in front of me about any of my friends and as soon as I've learned the cutting curse, your bits will be gone. Do you understand me, Draco? _Gone._"

Malfoy retained his composure, but Ron was happy to see that he'd gotten just a bit paler... if that were possible.

_There's the Harry I know._

Filch led them down to Hagrid's hut, lecturing them about how he used to punish students that he'd found out of bounds and that the good ol day's had long since ended when they banned torture.

"About time." Hagrid called out through the darkness. "Wha took yeh, Filch?"

In the dull lamp light, Ron could just make out the man's enormous shape against the treeline.

Filch snorted angrily. "Never you mind, Hagrid. Just take these whelps off me hands. I'll be back at dawn… for what's left of them." He said the last bit rather nastily, before heading back up to the castle.

"Alrigh' Harry? Ron?"

"Yeah. Thanks Hagrid," Harry said cheerfully.

"M'okay," he agreed.

Hagrid unslung his giant crossbow and knelt down to look the four of them in the eye. "Alright now listen up and listen good. It's dangerous wha' we're doin' tonight and I don't want no one taking any risks in the forest.

Malfoy choked. "The _forest?_ I'm not going in there!"

"Scared Malfoy?" asked Ron nastily, his voice almost breaking with his own fear.

Malfoy glared at him.

Ron stuck up two fingers and peered into the depths of the woods, yet all he could see was fog and more thick threatening trees.

"Look here," said Hagrid, walking to a thick trunk and running a finger down a smear of silver. "Tha's unicorn blood tha' is. There's one in there thas' been hurt bad by summat and we got ter find it, see? There's blood all over the place, so it might still be staggerin around."

Harry spoke up. "Hagrid… was it a werewolf, do you think?"

"Nah… not fast or strong enough ter catch one. Right powerful beings unicorns are. We need ter find it and help it... or we might have ter put it out of its misery. Right then. We'll split into two groups ter-"

"I want to go with, Harry," Malfoy said quickly.

"Uhh… alright. Draco, Harry, Neville, you take Fang. Ron you come with me and hold me quiver."

_Quiver holder… great. _

"Now if anyone finds the unicorn, send up green sparks… and if yeh get inter trouble, send up red. Alright? Yeah... just like tha', Neville. Let's go."

As Hagrid entered the forest with his back turned, Ron grabbed Malfoy's collar and slammed him into a tree.

"Get off-"

Ron cut him off and whispered intensely, "_No_. You listen to me you piece of shite. If you hurt Harry…"

Malfoy laughed in his face. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before, Weasley. Pain, beatings, you'll kill me… I get it. Now get your dirty hands off me."

Ron let him go, roughly shoving him as he did so. As he stalked after Hagrid, he felt a light touch on his arm and fingers entangling with his own. Harry was staring at him pointedly, as if to say '_I can handle Malfoy.'_

"I know… sorry."

She squeezed his hand and stood on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. "Thanks, Ron."

Shortly after they entered the forest, they reached a fork in the path where they split up. Ron hoisted Hagrid's quiver, which was almost as large as his own body. After about five minutes of walking down the path, they heard a loud crackling of dead leaves in front of them.

Hagrid held out his hand for him to stop. "Ron… give me a bolt and get behind me… slowly now."

Ron peered into the fog through the crook in Hagrid's arm. Something… was moving ahead of them. They stood stock still, frozen in place, listening.

Then quite suddenly, through the brush beside them, burst two large horses. One of Hagrid's bolts went singing into the darkness as he jumped.

Upon closer inspection he found that these two horses, were not horses at all… they were centaurs; _r__eal _centaurs.

_Not like those bloody kelpies out in Devon._

"Oh. Hullo, Bane… Ronan," said Hagrid, reslinging his crossbow. "Almost hit yah."

"No matter, Hagrid. Your arrows would not penetrate our hide," said the black-haired centaur.

"Uh o'course… this here is Ron Weasley… a student up at the school. Ron, this is Ronan and Bane." Hagrid gestured to each respectively. "Say… do either of yeh know wha's been attacking the unicorns? We're tryin ter find one tha's been hurt."

Bane cocked his head to Ronan and said, "Always the innocent are the first victims."

Ronan only nodded. Cantering towards Ron, Ronan stopped and tilted his head back, gesturing up at the sky. "Look, boy… Do you see it? Mars is bright tonight. Unusually bright." The centaur's voice was deep and twanged rather roughly.

Ron saw a tiny red star where Ronan was pointing. "Ermmm... yeah. I sort of-" When he looked back down, Ronan's grizzled face was not two inches from his own. His whinnying breath stank of fish and dirt.

"Ronald Weasley, born under the Knight… You ring like the shield while she sings like the blade. Neither will break in the same hands." Ronan's widely separated horse-like eyes were wide, staring at him… staring _through_ him. The centaur's words were ringing meaninglessly throughout Ron's head.

Ron didn't quite know what to say. "O-Okay then."

By the time Ron regained control of his reeling mind, the centaurs had gone as quickly as they had come. Hagrid patted him on the shoulder. "Odd creatures centaurs. Can't make sense o' half wha they say ter yeh."

"Yeah, that was-"

Ron froze as red light shot into the sky.

_Red sparks! Harry!_

He burst into motion, running as fast he could towards the light. He crashed through undergrowth, dodging trees, jumping roots, moving full speed through the forest.

He saw Harry in a clearing up ahead and she… Well, she was absolutely fine.

Harry was standing in front of Malfoy, wand drawn and yelling at him.

Ron pulled out his own wand and for the first time, successfully cast the most powerful curse available in the first-year curriculum. "EXPULSO!" he yelled, pointing at Draco's head. Unfortunately, the explosion curse didn't work on animate objects, but the resulting shockwave knocked Draco right on his arse. Ron followed up the curse and dove on the smaller boy. He pulled back his fist and slugged Malfoy as hard as he could, right in the jaw.

Malfoy groaned and rolled over, holding his head.

Ron pulled back again, but Harry caught his arm and dragged him over to her.

"Ron, no! He just scared Neville! It's alright."

He tried to pull away from her to get back at Malfoy, but Quidditch seemed to have made Harry's grip surprisingly strong. "Let me go, Harry. I'll only kill him a little bit."

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards, but she didn't relinquish her hold on him. Hagrid arrived moments later, wheezing slightly. "Wha'… Wha's happened?"

Neville whimpered, but admitted in a small voice, "Malfoy grabbed me from behind and I… I panicked."

"R-Right," said Hagrid. "We're changing groups. Malfoy, Neville, come with me. I'll keep an eye on the both of yer. Harry, Ron, you go with Fang."

After they had left, Ron turned to Harry. "You should've let me stomp him."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but his father is on the school's board of governors. If you beat Draco to a pulp, you'd get kicked out for sure." She grabbed his hand and grinned. "I'd miss you too much."

He felt his ears heat up. "Yeah… _well…_ okay."

Talking softly, they walked through the forest hand in hand for what seemed like hours.

"I'd play for the Harpies if I could though. They've been at the top of the English league for what… ten years?

"Aww! Come on, Harry. You could go pro right now! The Cannons need you! All they really need is a good seeker."

Harry giggled and said, "And a Keeper..."

"Well… yeah."

"And three chasers… and two beaters…"

"Alright alright!" grumbled Ron. "I get it! They're rubbish. Hey, did you finish that essay for Po-"

Harry's arm had crossed in front of him and she whispered sharply, pointing to a clearing up ahead. "Ron, look… _there._"

Forty or so paces ahead of them stood a large, shimmering, white horse with a single white horn protruding from its head. It was leaning its body into a thick tree. Ron could see, even at this distance, a large splotch of silvery liquid dribbling down its hindquarters. Harry raised her wand and a swirling tower of green sparks shot into the air. She ran towards the unicorn and Ron followed her closely.

The creature whimpered as they approached.

Harry had her hand out in a calming, friendly gesture. "It's alright," she whispered. "We're here to help."

Out of nowhere, Ron's left arm exploded with pain and he fell to ground screaming. Opening his eyes and trying not to hyperventilate, he saw a large gaping hole in his bicep; blood was pouring quickly from the wound.

He heard Harry cry out, "Fang! Come back!"

Harry was staring at him, her eyes wide with panic. Before she had even taken a step towards him, five flashes of light sailed past her and slammed into the unicorn. In every place they touched, silvery blood exploded in a shower from its flesh. The unicorn twitched violently… then lay still.

Ron watched from the ground, horrified, as Harry whirled around with her wand out, only to be blown back into the corpse of the unicorn. He tried to get up to help her… but he couldn't move a muscle. He couldn't even open his mouth. Harry was in a similar situation. Ron could see her eyes moving frantically while her body lay still.

From behind them, there was a high cold laugh that made Ron's soul quaver with fright. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a cloaked figure walking slowly toward them out of the mist.

It looked like... a man; face shrouded in shadow, but a man all the same. It glided toward Harry and the unicorn, bent down, and put its head over one of the horse's wounds.

Ron heard a sick sort of _sucking_ sound.

He would have screamed if he could have.

When the man had finished, the unicorn had lost its shimmer and the horn on its head had seemingly crumbled into ash. It looked like a regular horse; a regular, _dead_ horse.

The man let out a low feral laugh, reached towards Harry, and growled, "So tasty."

A different, high-pitched voice cried out, _"Save your perversions!"_

Both voices emanated from the cloaked figure.

The shadowy hand seemed to halt, but after a moment, it continued downward.

Ron felt harsh wind whipping around his body.

The man laughed and slammed his wand down at Harry. What was clearly a bludgeoning spell hit her in the stomach and the wind died immediately.

Ron fought with every ounce of his will against the magic restraining him.

_NO! PLEASE!_

Harry's eyes were screaming at him. In fear... in pain. And he could do nothing. He could only watch as spidery hands grabbed at her chest; as they clenched at her through her skirt; as they lifted it and grabbed her knickers tightly. Soft tears were sliding from Harry's eyes; eyes that were fixated on Ron; eyes that said only one thing:

_Help me…_

_HARRY! I CAN'T! PLEASE! _His own tears were pouring hotly down his face. He was losing so much blood.

An unholy scream echoed from underneath the man's hood when he touched her skin; both of the terrible voices screaming together in unison. The man, this horrible man, lurched backward and raised his wand. Ron's vision was going hazy.

A large shadow jumped clean over Ron's head, charging towards the cloaked man. Ron watched with relief as he fled into the trees.

_I'm so… tired._

And he knew no more.

...

...

...

_Harry's eyes were pained, darting about in fear. _

"_I'M SORRY. I CAN'T," he cried out. _

_She closed her eyes in disappointment and disappeared underneath a black cloak._

"_NO! COME BACK! PLEASE!"_

_Toffee apple._

Ron opened his eyes, squinting from the bright sunlight. He was lying in a Hospital bed. Someone was gripping his hand and brushing the hair out of his eyes. He recognized her large mess of hair and dark chocolate eyes. "Mione?"

The hand tightened. "Oh Ron. I'm so glad you're okay. You lost almost half of your blood. In a normal human muggle, a class four hemorrhage is described as forty percent blood loss. Anything after that will most likely result in-"

Ron raised his hand and placed it over her mouth. "Mione... shush."

She flared up, ready to start one of their fights, but Ron gave her his best attempt at a smile and her eyes softened considerably.

"Where's Harry?" he asked her.

Hermione's face fell sharply. "She… she hasn't been out of the dorm since…" She cast her eyes downward and played with his thumb. "Well, she sat with you all night until Madam Pomfrey got you stable. Then she… she went back to her dorm and hasn't come out since. What happened out there, Ron? I can understand avoiding the rest of the school's questions, but… she… she won't even tell _me._ If I try to touch her, she screams."

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "How long?"

"Two days. I've brought her food and water, but she won't touch it. She just… she just lies in bed. I wrote to Ginny… to… to tell her and McGonagall has tried to- Oh no, Ron, you mustn't!"

He had hopped down off the bed. "Are you going to stop me, Mione… or are you going to help me?"

She seemed torn. "Madame Pomfrey will be furious… Oh… alright let's go. But you won't be able to get up the stairs anyway. Boys aren't allowed up the girl's staircase."

"You just watch them stop me."

They rushed back to the Gryffindor common room. He had gotten five steps up the girl's staircase, when a loud bell sounded and the floor beneath his feet collapsed into a slide.

After sliding to the bottom, he got back up and glared at the reforming staircase. "Mione… go open the first year girl's door for me. Its right around that corner, yeah?"

"Yes… but what are you-"

"Just do it. I'm gunna use the railing."

Hermione sighed, but trouped up the staircase. "You'll kill yourself, you prat."

_I don't rightly care._

Ron ran towards the staircase and jumped onto the handrail, grabbing a torch above it for balance.

After a few failed attempts and bruised elbows, he reached the top of the stairs, jumping from rail to rail, torch to torch. Hermione was staring at him open mouthed. "Ron… that was…

"Yeah. Is she still in there?"

Hermione nodded. He jumped off the rail and into the dorm. He found her curled on a bed, still wearing the clothes he had last seen her in; clothes that were drenched in silver blood.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Harry?"

She flinched under his touch, but didn't scream, nor did she pull away.

Taking off his shoes, Ron sat down on the bed. He put his hands under her arms and lifted her up to sit between his legs as he leaned back against the headboard. She didn't protest; she simply placed her cheek upon his shoulder and lay still.

Hermione entered the room as well and sat down at the foot of Harry's bed.

"Mr. Weasley!" yelled Professor McGonagall, storming into the room. "What is the meaning- Oh my... She's… Very well, I'll just… I'll be in the common room."

The three of them sat for hours; Hermione occasionally reading passages aloud from her books; Ron just holding Harry, rubbing his thumb along her arm. Madame Pomfrey came into the dorm and after giving him a very stern talking to, handed him a blood replenishing potion and left.

Lavender and Parvati came and went, giving the three of them very odd looks. At dinner time, the two actually brought them some food. Bread and cheese. but it was still the kindest thing Ron had ever seen them do. "Thanks Lavender, Parvati, that was great of you."

Parvati nodded gravely while Lavender's cheeks flushed the tiniest bit red.

Professor McGonagall returned a few hours later and said quietly, "It's time to leave, Mr. Weasley."

The second she had said it, Harry moaned loudly and grabbed tightly onto the sleeves of Ron's shirt.

McGonagall sighed and pursed her lips. "Mr. Weasley… may I have your solemn oath that you will not leave this bed until I come to get you in the morning?"

Ron was stunned. "Yeah- Yes, Professor McGonagall… ma'am."

"Very… very well. Not a step, Mr. Weasley." She flicked the curtains shut with a wave of her wand.

Hours after McGonagall had left, Hermione asked him quietly, "Ron, do you… do you think she's catatonic?"

"Catawhat?"

Harry stirred beneath him and said feebly, "I'm not catatonic."

Ron squeezed her tightly and whispered into her ear. "You okay?"

Harry shook her head no and pushed herself into him. "My scar hurts... so badly."

"Your… your scar?" asked Hermione, shocked.

Harry nodded. "Can you get me some water, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded and ran from the room, returning a few minutes later with a large glass of water.

"Can you freeze it?"

Hermione took her out her wand and tapped it against the glass, whispering, "Glacius." The water froze over and Hermione gently placed it into Harry's hands, who held it to her forehead.

Harry didn't speak again until the water inside the glass had melted completely. Hermione had long since fallen asleep on the edge of the bed and Harry started to cry softly into his shoulder. "Ron he… he touched-"

Ron cut her off before she could say anything more. "I tried, Harry! I tried so hard. But… I couldn't… I tried so hard. He was too strong! I'll… I'll get stronger. It'll… I'll never let anyone…" He squeezed her waist and buried his head in her neck. "I'm so sorry."

Harry said nothing, but her chest heaved with silent sobs.

Ron closed his eyes and breathed with her.

He must've fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes again, the tiniest bit of light shone through the curtains. Harry was turned over, her cheek resting on his belly; they had somehow slid down so they were lying flat.

Noticing that Harry was awake, he slowly sat up.

Harry turned her head with him. "I know you tried, Ron. I… saw it in your eyes. But you… you wouldn't have been… Ron, it was Voldemort."

He flinched. Her voice was weak, tired… but when she said the name, it was as if she had shouted it in his ear. "It can't be… no."

"Firenze told me it was Voldemort… and I… I recognized his voice from… from my dream. He's after the Stone. Snape is probably trying to get it for him."

"We'll go to Dumbledore."

Harry sat up on her knees and shook her head. "No I… I can't tell anyone… about…"

"We could lie," he suggested hopefully.

"Dumbledore would know. No... this… this has to stay with us."

"What about Hermione? Harry, we can't just leave her in the dark."

"You tell her. I… I just can't."

"Okay."

After a moment of silence, he pulled her to his chest and hugged her. They fell back into the pillows and he valiantly tried not to avert his gaze as her eyes bore into him. "Harriet… I'm… I'll never let anyone hurt you again... ever."

Harry ran a hand softly down his arm… before she punched it squarely in the fleshiest bit. "Don't call me Harriet… _Ronald." _The corners of her mouth twitched upwards and she hugged him back tightly.

0000

0000

0000

0000

"That wasn't too bad at all." Ron said cheerily as they exited History of Magic.

Hermione scoffed. "Obviously. You know revision _does_ actually help. You really buckled down these last few weeks. I wouldn't be surprised if you do quite well on all of your exams."

Harry nodded her agreement.

_Neither would I. He's been trying really hard, hasn't he? Ever since…_

"Oi! Thanks for that insult wrapped in a compliment, Mione. Really, I'm right chuffed."

"So what did you put down for the essay question on the back?" Hermione asked Ron innocently.

Ron stopped walking. He had gone white as a sheet. "Essay on the… ESSAY ON THE BACK? PROFESSOR BINS, WAIT!"

Harry giggled as Ron dashed after the ghost. "Ohhhh, that was horrible, Hermione."

"I know, but I had to take him down a peg or two." Hermione put an arm around her shoulder and Harry couldn't help but flinch. Hermione pulled her arm away quickly and said, "Oh… Harry, I'm sorry."

"It's fine. It's just… with everyone except Ron… it just happens. It's not you. Here." Harry grabbed her arm and slung it over her shoulder. "See? It's just when people reach out at me… I kind of flash back."

Hermione's eyes moistened. "I understand Harry, you don't have to explain…" She sighed and put her head on Harry's shoulder. "I should have been there with you."

"What? So he could have gotten at you too? No, I'm happy you weren't there, Mione."

Hermione smiled widely at Harry's use of Ron's pet name for her. "I do ever so like it when you both call me that. It… it makes me feel…"

Harry hugged her tight. "Yeah."

They heard Ron yelling around the corner long before they actually saw him. "Mione! That wasn't bloody funny!"

"Au contraire, Ron!" Hermione pulled back and wiped at her eyes. "I'm still laughing!"

Ron stalked back towards them in a huff. "Well, that was a cruel way to suddenly develop a sense of… What's this then?" He gestured towards Hermione's wet cheeks.

Hermione patted him on the chest. "Nothing to worry about," she said and walked away down the hall.

When Ron turned to Harry for an explanation, she grinned and mimicked Hermione.

They spent the rest of the day down by the lake, lounging against a thick oak tree as they watched a group of students tickle the giant squid. While Ron and Hermione were bickering about the importance of revision, Harry wrote a letter to Ginny.

She still hadn't told her yet. Ever since the forest, her letters to Ginny had gotten shorter, less descriptive. How could she write about trivial things when all that was ever on her mind was a pair of spidery hands clenching and tearing at her? How could she tell her what had happened in a letter? Harry felt horrible as well. She had promised that they'd only have one secret.

_Dear Gin,_

_Soon we get to see each other again. Just one more week. And then a few more weeks after that, we get to spend an entire year together! I want to explain why my letters have been so short, but I can't, not on paper. I need you to be there with me when I talk about it. So this summer I will. I made a promise. One secret only. Exams went well. I think Ron did better than I did in bloody History of Magic. I was just staring through Professor Bins for half the exam. Hope you're not doing too many chores._

_I miss you,_

_Harry_

She folded up the letter and put it in her bag to send later that night.

It was a nice day out. It wasn't hot enough to be uncomfortable and there was a very nice breeze running across them from the water. Harry flipped the hourglass and the tangy scent of oak was replaced by strawberries. It warmed her heart.

The light breeze buffeted strongly against her face. Alice's soft humming turned into an opera. Ron and Hermione's heartbeats sounded like that annoying popping that Seamus did with his lips while he was reading.

She closed her eyes, listening; feeling everything.

_She was walking slowly up to the Owlry. She knew that tonight was the night. With Dumbledore gone, she would have a clear path. She had learned the secret of the dog; music… it was so simple. She had found Snape's answer to the potion riddle... everything else would be child's play. Tonight, she and her master would become invincible. _

_On last time, she skimmed over the parchment in her hand, marveling at the wonderful craftsmanship of her forged letter._

_Cher Albus,_

_Some troubling Veela uprisings are taking place all over my country. There will soon be blood in the streets. Please, I would greatly appreciate your help in advising the French Government on the proper course of action. If you could meet me at the Ministry, I would be ever grateful._

_Cordialement,_

_François Delacour_

_Yes… Obscure enough to draw him out… Perfect._

_To her increasing delight, as she pushed open the Owlry door, she found a small girl standing just inside. Her hair, tied back with a little pink ribbon, was long, blonde, and slightly curly; her skin: light, pink, and delicious. Oh how she wanted to tear it off her; to watch the girl's eyes as she flayed the flesh from bone. _

_She vaguely recalled that the girl's name was 'Brown.'_

_Perhaps a little snack… in celebration. I'll just hold off on the flaying… Well, I'll try to, at least._

_The girl sent off her owl and turned towards her. "Oh… hello, Professor Quirrell. How are you today?"_

_She shut the door with an unbreakable locking charm. _

_The girl's eyes widened slightly. _

_She stalked forward and hit the precious little thing with the strongest body bind she could muster._

"_Quirrell… not now," cried her master. "There is little time. You will have your fill after we obtain the Stone!"_

"_P__lease, Master," she begged. "Just this one. Look at her fear! It's so tasty." _

_The little girl's eyes were darting about the room searching for escape._

"_Very well, Quirrell, but make it a partial bind… I do enjoy their screams."_

_She threw a silencing charm on the door and flicked her wand at the girl, who immediately began to scream, crying out for help that wouldn't come as her body lay still as stone. _

_She pounced on the girl, ripping her clothes eagerly. _

_She frowned at the girl's developing bust line. It was much too big for her usual tastes, but she would take what she could get._

_She roughly trailed her hands all over, pinching and grabbing every little delicious bit of the girl. She wanted to cut her. She wanted to tear her, but there would be questions if she did._

_She didn't waste time. Quickly pushing aside her robes, she released herself and plunged forward. __Brown's pathetic high-pitched screams aroused her so very much; the push of her weak accidental magic, even more so. _

_Ahhh yes. _

_Upon seeing the vast amounts of blood glistening all over, her heart fluttered with pure joy. N__othing was sweeter t__han innocence lost._

_The girl had stopped screaming. Her eyes had rolled into the back of her head; she had clearly g__one into shock._

_She felt her master sigh disappointedly. _

_She finished quickly and stood, heart still racing. She tidied both the girl and herself, repaired the girl's clothes, and healed what she could. There was no reason to not observe the niceties. _

"_Ennervate." The girl's blue eyes rolled back into place and she again began to scream shrilly at the sight of her._

"_Obliviate." _

_The girl's face went slack. _

_She removed the memory, released the body-bind, unlocked the door, and bent down to shake the girl awake. "M-m-Miss Brown. Miss B-b-b-Brown. Are y-y-you quite al-alright?"_

_The girl came back to herself. She looked around, totally confused._

"_Miss B-b-Brown you had a t-t-t-terrible f-fall. D-do you n-n-need me to escort y-you to the H-h-h-Hospital Wing?"_

"_Oh… oh no, Professor, but thank yo-_

Harry was jerked awake by a splash of cold water. Her scar was burning like it never had before. It was like a white hot knife plunging into her skull. as she screamed and clutched it. A cacophony of voices assaulted her ears, all talking at once.

"Sweet Merlin! Did you see her eyes? _Freaky_."

"Harry! Harry! What can I do?"

"Harry, let us help you."

"Is that Potter?"

"What's wrong with the crazy bint now?"

"You shut your bloody fat mouth, Flint."

"Merlin! Look… her head is bleeding."

"How long has she been screaming?"

"Serves her right, after losing those points."

"Don't make me deck you, Ernie."

"And after he hits you-"

"We'll hit you too."

"It'll be great fun. A Weasley family beating. Fred, grab her other arm; Ron, get her legs."

When the pain finally died down to a searing ache, Harry found herself staring up at a starry sky. She could just make out a red star that was particularly bright, shining from behind a darkened cloud.

_Great Hall… nighttime… QUIRRELL! _

Harry sat up sharply and found Hermione's bushy hair right in front of her. She grabbed her friend and shouted at the top of her cracked, weak voice, "HERMIONE!"

The girl jumped and turned to Harry, her eyes wide. "Oh, Harry, thank g- mmph!"

Gasping for breath, Harry smothered Hermione's mouth with her hand, looking deeply into her brown eyes. "Mione, Not Snape… Quirrell… forest… Quirrell… Lavender."

Harry looked around, still panting. Only a few students were in the Great Hall, playing cards, gobstones, chess… and all of them were staring at her.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked frantically

"Right behind you," Ron said, tapping her shoulder.

She stood and pulled them both up with her. "Where's Lavender Brown?"

"Up in your room I expect," said Ron slowly. "Why? One minute you're screaming in your sleep and the next minute you need Lavender?" Harry what the bloody hell is going on? What happened?"

She ran down the length of the Great Hall and yelled back at them, "Follow me!"

Professor McGonagall was in the Entrance Hall, cleaning up sapphires from a broken Ravenclaw Hourglass.

Harry skidded to an abrupt halt. "Professor! Has the Headmaster gone to the Ministry?"

"Potter… What on earth-"

"Has he?" she yelled frantically.

The stern woman nodded slowly. "Why…yes, Potter, he has. How did you-"

Harry darted up the stairs towards the common room, Ron and Hermione following behind her. She tore through the portrait hole and up to her dorm.

Lavender was in her bed, intently reading Witch Weekly.

"Lavender!" Harry tore across the room and grabbed the girl by the shoulders. "Lavender… _please _tell me you didn't meet Professor Quirrell in the Owlry today. Please."

The girl's eyes widened with shock.

Harry shook her roughly. "Lavender! I swear, this is important! Tell me!"

"Oh… um… yes, I did, actually. He helped me up after I fell. How could that be important to anything?"

Harry moaned miserably.

_This really happened._

She looked up at the blonde girl, who was staring at her quizzically.

_Do I… Do I tell her what happened to her?_

Lavender put down her magazine and placed a hand lightly over Harry's own. "Harry, you look like you've seen death. Your head is all bloody too!"

Ron and Hermione finally caught up with her.

"Harry, what in the blazes?" wheezed Ron.

_I can't tell her. She'll go mad. _

Harry leaned over and hugged Lavender tightly._ "I'm so sorry."_

Leaving Lavender stunned, she got up and went over to her trunk, pulled out her invisibility cloak, and walked out of the dorm. "Ron, Hermione, come on, I'll explain."

Down in the common room she found a corner and sat on the floor. Ron and Hermione sat on either side of her. "Okay. Here's how it is. When I augment my magic and go to sleep, I can't dream. It's absolutely impossible. I just float in my magic. I fell asleep by the tree and… _I_ _had a dream._ Except, it wasn't a dream! It was a vision of what was happening at that exact moment, because the things I dreamt about have actually happened! Quirrell he… he _is _Voldemort. They _share_ bodies. They talk to each other! Quirrell he… he did things to Lavender; things he didn't have a chance to do to me in the forest. He made Lavender forget and think that she merely fell over. He sent a fake summons to Dumbledore from the Ministry! It wasn't Snape at all. It's been _Quirrell_ all along! Do you both understand what I'm saying?"

Hermione nodded and Ron after a moment's pause, mimicked her.

Harry breathed out heavily. "He knows how to get past Fluffy. He lured Dumbledore away. Tonight is the night… and I'm going to stop him.

"Harry, no! We have to go to a teacher!" cried Hermione.

"Quirrell helped _protect_ the stone, Mione! They'll never believe he's trying to steal it! It's up to us now!"

Hermione slowly shook her head. "But, Harry, how are we going to stop him? How are we going to beat him? He's a Hogwarts Professor!"

Harry ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "I… I don't know. But I'm going anyway!"

Ron squeezed her arm. "Me too, Harry."

Hermione bit her lip. "I _hate_ this… but… Well, I can't very well let you both go off without me again, now can I? So, how do we get past the dog?"

Harry took her hand reassuringly. "With music… and I've got just the thing."

She rushed back upstairs to her trunk and dug around for Hagrid's flute.

Alice slid down her arm, tangling into her little bit of ribbon from Christmas. "_You are a mosst fretful misstresss, Chica. Alwayss the running and the sscreaming. It makess me mosst upsset."_

Harry rubbed the little snake under its chin, leaned down, and whispered, "Stay here. If I don't come back, find Ginny. She'll… Well, just go be _her_ ally, okay?"

The dormitory door closed behind her with a soft click and Harry whirled around. Lavender was leaning against it, hands behind her back, eyes cast downward. "Harry," she muttered quietly. "I was… I was eavesdropping... downstairs."

_Oh bugger. _

Lavender looked up and her dark blue eyes bore into Harry's own from across the room. "What… What did he do to me then?"

Harry sighed and walked over to her, taking Lavender's hand in both of hers. "Lavender… _please_. You… you don't want to-"

"Don't I have the right to know?"

"You do but… I don't want to tell you." Harry tried to convey the absolute horribleness of what she knew down through her hands. "Please Lavender… don't make me tell you. I _can't_ tell you. You saw what I was like after… after the forest. How I still… flinch. What he did to you was… was so much worse."

Lavender gave her a stoic look.

"It was awful," whispered Harry, shuddering. "Look, he… he did you a favor with that memory charm."

The blonde girl folded her arms and asked slowly, "Does it have to do with… Is it why I hurt so much?" Her eyes flicked downward.

Harry couldn't bring herself to answer her, but Lavender seemed to figure it out on her own. She stepped aside. "Oh. That's… Harry, are you going after him?"

"Yeah."

Lavender's eyes, filling with tearful shame, flashed dangerously. "Kill him."

Harry was floored. "Lavender, I can't-"

Lavender put her hand over her face and sank down to the ground, crying softly.

_Can't I? He deserves to die._

Harry knelt next to Lavender, who leaned into Harry's body, mumbling, "He should… he needs to… _bastard._ I want you to kill him!"

"Lavender, I have to go."

Harry stood and Lavender made no move to stop her. The girl merely sank back against their doorframe with her eyes closed.

The common room emptied slowly. Eventually, the only people left were themselves and Neville. The boy was watching them closely. With her back turned, Harry whispered to Hermione, "How do we get rid of him?"

Hermione pulled out her wand, stuck it through the crook in her arm, and muttered under her breath, "Really sorry about this, Neville… _Petrificus Totalus._"

Neville went slack, his eyes darting about in confusion.

Harry gasped. Hands were reaching towards her, grabbing her, tearing at her. Her scream of anguish was muffled by Ron's hand. The boy pulled her to his chest, cradling her.

_NO! PLEASE! LET ME GO!_

"Mione!" Ron whispered fiercely, struggling to keep Harry in his hold. "_What did you do to him?"_

"What? It's just a simple second-year spell… Oh! _Oh no. Harry... I'm so sorry._" Hermione's hand reached towards her and Harry panicked. She swung her legs up, kicking at the offending hand, which caused Ron to lose his balance. They fell to the floor with an almighty crash.

Harry couldn't stop the screaming sobs from escaping her throat. The whole house would've woken if Ron's hand hadn't been clamped tightly over mouth.

Eventually, with his soft tenor whispering soothingly into her ear, she calmed.

Hermione was sitting next to them, her forehead resting on Harry's arm. "Harry, I didn't think. I'm sorry."

Giving Ron the most grateful look she could manage, Harry sat up and wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist. "It's alright, just… Maybe a different spell next time?"

She pushed herself to her feet and walked over to Neville's armchair. Sitting on the chair's edge, she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Neville, Look at me."

His eyes darted up to meet her own.

"Don't be afraid," said Harry. "It has to be this way. You'd either try to stop us or follow us. Either way you'd get hurt. Voldemort is in the castle, Neville. I have to find him and stop him. When this spell wears off, if you still feel like you need to do something, go to McGonagall. Tell her that someone is after the stone and that I've gone after them. Sorry again, Nev. Alright. Let's go."

When Harry saw the open door on the third floor, the reality of the situation crashed down upon her. Quirrell was somewhere below them, perhaps already in possession of the stone. "We need to hurry."

Fluffy collapsed in slumber as soon as Harry played the first note on the flute.

Ron shoved the dog's rather large paw out of the way and pulled open the heavy trapdoor. Peering down into it, he paled and said, "Well... ladies first."

Harry handed the flute to Ron and before anyone could protest, she jumped down into the pit.

She hit something soft and… moving. Hermione and Ron landed next to her with loud THWUMPS.

Ron laughed loudly. "Oh. A terrifying drop onto a marshmallow. How is that even remo-MMPH"

Something was creeping up Harry's leg. She leapt up and darted for the barely visible wall. Hermione had sensibly done the same on the other side of the room.

"LUMOS" Harry cried.

The blazing sun exploded from the tip of her wand and what she saw made her legs tremble. Giant vines were wrapped around Ron, covering his face. They were inching towards Hermione and herself as well. The vines slowly pulled at Ron's torso and limbs.

Harry could just make out his muffled scream of pain.

Hermione gasped. "Oh no! This is… THIS IS DEVIL'S SNARE! WE LEARNED ABOUT IT, HARRY! REMEMBER?"

The vines had Ron completely entangled. There was a sickening popping noise as his arm was wrenched violently behind him and his yelling intensified tenfold.

Hermione was panicking and screaming at her from across the chamber, "HARRY... WHAT DO I DO?"

Harry shrieked as a vine wrapped itself up her leg and pulled her down to the ground, dragging her slowly toward the main mass of plant. She cried out overtop of Ron's muffled cries, "I DON'T PAY ATTENTION IN BLOODY HERBOLOGY, HERMIONE! KILL IT OR ITS GOING TO RIP HIM IN HALF!"

Harry tried to crawl away from the vine, but another wrapped around her midsection and violently jerked her backwards. Her wand flew out of her hand and clattered across the stone floor, thrusting them once again into darkness.

Harry heard Ron's other shoulder pop out of its socket and her heart lurched miserably when she heard his much softer weaker cry of pain. "HERMIONE… _PLEASE_. RON!

Hermione was muttering to herself frantically. "I… Devil's Snare… I don't… it… I can't remember!"

Wind was swirling around them in the darkness. Harry's magic was pulsing, her body was burning.

There was a loud THWUMP, a few moments pause, and a sudden cry of, _"INCENDIO!"_

A great burst of flame lit up the chamber. Harry shielded her eyes in the bright light, but she could still see him; _Neville_; pudgy bumbling Neville; Neville, who could barely manage a levitation charm, was driving back the Devil's Snare.

Hermione echoed Neville's spell and Harry watched as the plant slithered away from the flame, retreating into a corner.

Harry and Ron were both released from the vines, the latter dumped unceremoniously onto the stone floor. Harry jumped up and ran to him. She grabbed his arms and pulled him into the tunnel beyond. "Come on!" she shouted to Hermione and Neville, who were still shooting fire at the plant.

Harry pulled Ron's heavy body all the way down a sloping tunnel. When it flattened, she laid him on the ground and hugged his chest tight. "Oh Ron… I thought for a moment…"

Ron's body heaved and he sobbed softly in pain. "Harry… my arms…"

"Hush," she whispered, cupping his cheek. "I know. Dislocated. Happened to me three times in Quidditch practice. Easy fix though; pops right back in. Neville, come help me."

Ripping off a part of her shirt at the seam, she directed Neville to press down on Ron's shoulder and said in her best bedside manner, "Ron, bite down on this, because… Well, this is going to hurt… alot.

"Ey…" he said through the cloth, "ken be wors den-"

She wrenched his arm upward.

"AGGGHHHHHHHHH! MUHWIN'S BWOODY BAWWS!" His face scrunched in horrific pain as the ball slid back into its socket.

She straddled Ron's waist. "Neville, other arm… quick."

Ron huffed heavily. "No... don... Wai a mo- AGHHHH!"

Panting, Harry brushed her hair back behind her ear, kissed Ron's cheek, and fell back against the floor.

_If Neville hadn't come… _

Cradling Ron's moaning head in her lap, Hermione asked. "Neville, how on earth did you get down here?"

Neville laughed nervously. "Well I… I overheard you in the common room saying you were going somewhere. I… I was going to stop you, but… when you said you were going after Voldemort… Well, I know I'm not good at most things, but I had to help. Almost got nicked by Filch. And I… I sang to get past the dog."

Harry couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up and out of her chest.

Hermione grabbed the pudgy boy and pulled him down into a tight embrace. "Oh Neville… you just saved all of our lives. I'm so sorry about the body-bind."

Neville rubbed the back of his head bashfully. "N-No worries. Gave me time to think about what I wanted to do, I suppose."

Ron weakly held out his arm to Neville who gripped it with his own. "Nev… I can't even tell you how grateful I am." He grinned slyly. "Next time Malfoy gives you trouble, you come to me and I'll deal with him. I've decked him enough that he actually flinches when I move my arm too suddenly. I've made a nice little game out of it."

Harry crawled over to them and took Neville's hand. "And next time Snape gets on your case, I'll charm his hair pink." She stood and wiped off her skirt, saying resolutely, "After that I… I don't want to go on, but we have to. Ron, can you stand?"

Ron grimaced. "Oh sure… I just… can't feel my arms. Help me up, would you?"

The four of them walked down the long tunnel and emerged into a brightly lit room. The ceiling, as high as the Great Hall's, could almost not be seen due to the mass of birds flying below it.

Hermione, with her eyes on the birds, cautiously walked across the room to the door on the other side. She turned the handle. "Locked. _Alohomora_!"

The lock jiggled, but the door remained sealed.

The birds above them flapped gracefully around the high ceiling, tinkling softly.

_Wait a moment… tinkling?_

Harry flipped the hourglass and suddenly the birds… or rather, flying keys, were right in front of her eyes. "They're keys! I bet my Nimbus one of them unlocks that door!" She spotted the broomsticks on the ground and grinned widely. "Cake."

A broomstick flew into Harry's hand as she ran at them. Laughing madly, she leapt into the air and pulled the broom beneath her mid-jump. Soaring upward, immersing herself amongst the keys, she easily found one that stood out. It was looping around a torch, wing bent, and trying to hide. She dove for it and the key shot off in the opposite direction. However, the battered old broom didn't quite seem up to the chase.

_Desperate measures then. _

Harry chased it wantonly, watching its every move. As the key tried to reverse direction around a beam, she put on a burst of speed, lowered a leg, and latched her foot onto the support. Using her foot as leverage, Harry spun around the beam, slingshotted out of the risky turn at a phenomenal speed, and caught the little thing with a shout of triumph.

Back on the ground, Ron was staring at her open mouthed. "A BALLENTINE TURN! Are you kidding me, Harry? Please… won't you play for the Cannons?"

Turning the key in the lock, Harry smirked and punched him in the arm.

"Ha! Didn't feel a thing! Devil's Snare: One; Potter: Zero."

The room beyond was pitch black. Hermione tried to light her wand, but the black haze seemed to suck in the light. They slowly walked forward into the dark, placing their feet carefully in front of them. As soon as they were all inside, the door behind them slammed shut and the room was flooded with light.

A giant chessboard lay before them; black on their side, white on the opposite. Another door, just like the one they had passed through, lay beyond the white set. Harry ran toward it, but right when she reached the front line of white pawns, the pieces came alive. The pawn in front of her swung his stone shield viciously into her chest, knocking her back a good ten feet.

Winded, she coughed and spat crimson onto the smooth, white, marble square she had landed in. "Bugger."

Ron's hand fell on her shoulder. "You alright, mate?"

Harry nodded, coughing up the last of the blood, and wiped her mouth.

"Well," said Ron. "I guess we play across. Alright… my turn… I suppose. We'll need to take the places of pieces and I'll need to keep all of you active so… right… Welsh Gambit. We'll all get on the same side. Mione you take that Rook, I'll take the Knight, Neville the Bishop, and Harry, you take the Queen."

As soon as he said it, the four side-by-side pieces walked off the board and Harry felt a heavy something fall softly on her hair. She reached up and felt cool thick metal.

Hermione giggled. "Nice crown, Harry. This is obviously McGonagall's and Flitwick's. I've seen them playing together every now and then."

When they took their squares, a white pawn slid forward two spaces. Ron furrowed his brow and Harry saw his face morph into that of Chess Ron's.

"Right then," said Chess Ron. "Here we go."

When the other black knight took the first white piece, they all gasped in shock. The knight had drawn his blade and lopped off the head of the smaller white pawn. The game became increasingly brutal after that. Harry tried to keep up with Ron's thought process, analyzing his rapid orders and attempting to play out games in her head, but she was always behind him.

Ron's moves made no sense to her.

"Harry, B4."

"Knight to E3"

"Pawn to C4"

"Neville, G5… yeah. That space there."

"Mione, D1… Yup, that one."

The game dragged on and on. Ron kept them all from being taken, but they were bleeding pieces, and Ron's moves became much slower. He was most likely playing games to the end in his head. A guarded pawn loomed ever closer to her square. It slid into the space diagonal from her own, its blade gleaming in the light.

She cried out to him from across the board. "Ron, I'm about to get taken!"

He smiled at her sadly. "No, you're not, Harry. Look at the board."

Harry stared around at the pieces, playing out games as far as she could. And then she saw it. Sinking down to the floor she moaned at him. "No… Ron, you… _you can't_! I almost lost you already. Please."

Hermione cried out, "What? What is it?"

Ron's twinkling crystal blue eyes bore into her. "I made a promise, didn't I? Never again."

_You stupid noble bugger! _

Harry wanted to slap him. "Ron, just try with the other Rook! It… it might work."

"No… I have a feeling they won't take the bait. It's too obvious." He gave her his manic 'I just won at Chess' grin. "But this way, we win and you all stay safe. Good way to go out."

Hermione had caught on. "NO! Don't you dare, Ronald Weasley! Let's just start over. We can-"

The pawn next to her suddenly had its knife to Harry's throat. Every piece on the board had drawn their weapons and was pointing it at one of them.

Ron laughed hollowly and said, "Yeah, thought that would happen." He yelled to the surrounding room, "It's alright! We're staying to finish." The pieces replaced their blades as one. "Besides, the Queen has just been smashing pieces with her fists. I might be okay."

Harry couldn't look at him anymore. "Ron… please… I…"

"Yeah… me too, Harry; Hermione, you as well. I'm sorry I was such a bugger to you at first. Neville, sorry I didn't get to know you better. Harry you... you look after Gin for me."

"Ron, stop! Please! We can… Oh god…I can't watch you do this!"

Ron stepped out of his square, moved forward, and said, "Check."

Harry shut her eyes and covered her ears, but she still heard Hermione's scream and Neville's yell.

It was torment to her ears. With her eyes still closed, she said in a quavering voice, "Hermione! Take the Queen and… and say 'check.'"

The Queen's crown clattered against the marble. "Check.

She heard the white King slide into the only place it could. "Neville. Move diagonally to the left and forward three. Say 'check.'"

"Check."

Harry opened her eyes, keeping them trained on the floor. She walked past the pawn to the edge of the board and cried out in anguish, "Checkmate!"

The White King's crown sailed to her feet.

Harry ran to Ron as fast as she could and slammed into his prone form. His head was oozing blood in a steady stream. "No… Ron… please… come back to me… please… please… Ron we have to go back to the Burrow…" Shaking him lightly, she pleaded, "We have to go flying, yeah?" She pawed softly at his neck, crying into his chest. "Please Ron… come back."

He lay still… and her heart broke.

_My parents… my best mate... oh Ron. _

Red eyes bore into her soul. A high cold laugh echoed about in her mind.

_Trying to keep his stomach inside his body._

_A knife dripping with blood._

_Bleeding, beaten to her last breath, her heart slowing._

_Hands around her throat, watching the life drain away from her._

_Roasting in a towering inferno of flaming horses._

_Her children torn and clawed by the hands of the dead._

"_So tasty."_

"_Make it a partial bind… I do enjoy their screams."_

"_He should… he needs to… bastard. I want you to kill him!"_

_I… hate you._

_I hate you. I hate you! I HATE YOU! __**I'LL KILL YOU!**_

Harry screamed in rage, angry tears streaming down her face. Gale storm winds buffeted Hermione and Neville to the ground. Her core raged and seethed; her skin burned with white fire; her heart pumped a million times a second.

Turning around, she barreled through the now open door. She hurtled over the leg of a dead troll. The next door blew apart before she even reached it. She ran down a tunnel of searing hot black flame. It burned, but only just; the wind battering it down to the ground.

Bursting into the open, Harry saw a familiar very mirror resting upon a raised platform; saw the man standing in front of it; saw the familiar turban… and knew what lay beneath it.

Quirrell turned to her, "Ahhh, Potter. How absolutely delicio-"

Whipping out her wand, she cried out with all pain she felt in her heart; with all the pain of those she had watched Voldemort murder.

"**EXPULSO!"**

The bright sun within her rushed down her arm and the shockwave that exploded from the tip of her wand rocked the entire chamber. Quirrell, too slow to react, was blown off the platform. He flew backwards into the hard stone wall twenty feet away. She ran forward and cried again,

"**EXPULSO!"**

Quirrell was crushed into the ground. She heard several satisfying cracks. Both the man, and the monster, screamed in pain. She cast the spell again, pointing at his face… but this time… he was ready for her.

"Protego!" he yelled out.

A shimmering wall of air erupted in front of him and Harry was thrown backwards by her rebounding curse. She landed hard, but her tumultuous anger toward this monster spurred her to get up and fight.

"LOCOMOTOR MORTIS!" she screamed.

Quirrell swatted away her leg locker curse as if it were an annoying gnat. His face was curled into a twisted smile as he strode purposefully toward her.

Dismayed, Harry's rage flickered to fear and she cried out desperately, "Incendio!"

Again, Quirrell didn't speak, merely flicked his wand, dissolving the flames into nothingness.

This exchange continued for some time. Quirrell never tried to come close enough to grab her, he simply stayed in close range, smiling at her and knocking away or reflecting all of her spells.

When Quirrell spoke, his voice was laced with sickening laughter and showed no trace of his signature stutter. "Really, Potter? First year curses and jinxes against Quirinus Quirrell, Vassal to Lord Voldemort? The Dark Lord whispers his terrible knowledge into my very ear. What next? Charms?"

_Good idea, you bastard!_

She focused her mind on a simple sharpened arrow and heatedly whispered, "Apparo!"

With a sharp twist of her wand, the conjured arrow flew toward Quirrell, burrowing deeply into his right shoulder. He growled in pain, but her victory was short lived.

She was horrified as Quirrell vanished the arrow and drew his wand across the wound. The flesh slid shut with a soft _slick._ Quirrell's smirk returned and he hissed menacingly, "_A__h yes, I forgot. _Flitwick's newly found prodigy. A _master_ conjurer at the age of eleven. Well, girl, since you insist, we shall… _play rough_… _NOX ARGENTUS!_"

Harry only just barely managed to dodge; a black streak of lightning singing her hair. The curse bore the smell of acrid smoke. Quirrell followed up with a red curse that slammed into her shoulder.

White hot knives pierced every inch of her skin. Her bones burned. Every nerve in her body was screaming in agony; screaming as she did.

And then it was gone as quickly as it had come. Harry fell to her hands and knees, body still twitching from the curse. Leaning against a pillar, Quirrell twirled his wand lazily between his fingers and asked breathily "Did you enjoy that, Potter? _I did." _

Harry got up and ran as fast as she could around the Mirror, conjuring four more arrows.

Quirrell, batting the arrows away as he had done her jinxes, slashed his wand downwards.

An arc of purple light flew towards her face.

Harry dodged back behind the Mirror, which trembled with the impact of the spell, glowed, and shot it right back at Quirrell. He only just managed to move out of the way.

A high cold voice echoed out from the turban, _"Do not hit the mirror, fool! Cease your game." _

Harry heard Quirrell snap his fingers and ropes sprang around her body.

_He was… He was toying with me… _

She rose up and flew through the air. It was as if a large hand had grabbed her and pulled her to Quirrell's side, holding her an inch off the ground.

The man ran a finger across her shoulder and down her chest. He pinched her nipple roughly and Harry screamed in protest as she flashed back to the forest and the Owlry.

Quirrell moaned with sickening delight. "Ahh, your scream is _so_ sweet; I can taste the fear. It drips with it. Perhaps, a little more…" His hand drifted downward to her skirt and he grabbed at her through the cloth.

Harry's choking, screaming cries were met by pitiless ears. She fiercely fought against the ropes, but to no avail.

Quirrell's face was inches from her own, his merciless black eyes boring into her own tearful ones.

"_Cease Quirrell! There is no time!"_

Quirrell moved his lips close to her ear and she shivered in fear as once again, she felt his breath on her neck. "It's a shame I cannot touch your skin without feeling pain. I could do such _wonderful_ things to you. It is also a shame we have so little time together, Potter. I must examine this Mirror. Perhaps we can play more… _after._ Now sit." He waved his wand and something invisible and thick slammed into her stomach, knocking her over off the platform.

Quirrell stepped in front of the mirror. "I see myself holding the stone; presenting it to you, Master. But I cannot reach it…"

As Quirrell muttered to himself, Harry lay on the ground shivering, her mind shifting hopelessly from each terrible thought to the next. _No one is coming to save me. Quirrell is going to get the stone. Voldemort is going to live forever. Quirrell will touch me. He'll torture me. I'm going to die here. Quirrell will make it painful. Ron… is gone. I'll never see Ginny again. _

A hand clamped over her mouth and a voice whispered in her ear, "Don't scream. Don't speak."

_Oh thank God. Hermione!_ _She's got the cloak! _

Harry was intensely glad Quirrell was turned or he would have seen part of her head disappear.

Hermione's voice became even quieter. "Ron's alive. I sent a letter to Dumbledore. Stall him. I'll be here." The hand lifted.

She could only process two words of what Hermione had just said.

_Ron's alive._

_Ron's alive?_

_Ron's alive!_

_RON'S ALIVE!_

A large piece of her heart soared back into its proper place.

"Master! My deepest desire is to find it! Why can I not?"

Harry flashed back to an overheard conversation… and to a mirror covered in blazing gold gibberish.

_'I promise you, Nicolas. It will remain untouched. The enchantments I will place will not allow anyone that wishes to use it, to retrieve it.'_

_I don't want to use it…_

In her mind, she felt a creeping tendril retract quickly. Voldemort's voice whispered to Quirrell through the turban. _"Use the girl. She knows the truth."_

_Bugger._

Quirrell snapped his fingers and the ropes disappeared. "Yes… Potter, come here."

Harry obediently got up and walked toward the mirror.

"Tell me what you see," said Quirrell, pushing her in front of the golden clawed feet.

Harry didn't see her family.

She didn't even see the Weasleys.

She saw two people. One was her own reflection. Her pale face was cut; stained with dirt and blood. Her slightly pointed chin had a severe burn that she only just now started to feel. Her hair, as messy as ever, was limp with grime and sweat. Everything about her screamed "dead girl walking." Everything… except her eyes. They were twinkling and staring down at a dark-red stone resting within the cupped palm of the other occupant of the mirror.

Ginny had her arm around Harry's shoulders.

_Oh Gin. I have to see you again. Please let me see you again. Help me. _

Ginny gave her a radiant smile and winked. She leaned over and gave her reflection a long lingering kiss on the cheek whilst slipping the blood- colored stone into the side-pocket of Harry's skirt as she did so.

Something heavy slid against Harry's thigh.

_Oh Merlin. Right… stall him._

Harry put on her most convincing voice and said softly, "I… I see myself, with my family… alive."

"_Lies," _whispered the turban.

Quirrell grabbed her hair and wrenched upward. "Potter, tell the truth, what did you see?"

Harry said nothing and felt the tendril enter her mind once again. Desperate, not knowing if it would work, she pictured her mind in the form of a hammer and slammed it down on the end of the intrusion. It withdrew and Quirrell flinched away from her.

Voldemort laughed cruelly. _"Ahhh, yes, girl. Crude in method… yet effective. You are most gifted at mind-magic for one so young. Dumbledore's would be apprentice, indeed. Quirrell… I will speak with her face to face. Unveil me!"_

"Master, you are not yet strong enough."

"_Do not question me. I have strength enough for this."_

Quirrell unwrapped his turban. Had Harry not been expecting this horrible visage with burning red eyes, she would have screamed. For it was, if anything, horrible, sinister... and _evil_.

When their eyes met, Harry felt another, much thicker tendril creep into her mind. She looked away quickly and tried to hammer on it like before, but the tendril remained, worming its way into her memories. She closed doors left and right; doors with her friends, doors with her magic, doors with her past. Voldemort, however, didn't seem the least bit interested in any of this, for he was only looking for one thing.

_The Stone..._ _might as well give it to him._

She brought it to the forefront of her mind and the tentacle retreated. Harry saw the open door... and stepped through it.

_Kill her, Kill her, Kill Her, Kill Her!_

Voldemort hissed softly, _"Most appreciated, girl; so like your mother. I killed your father first. He put up a courageous fight. I will even go as far as to say one of my greatest. Your mother, however, did not resist. She begged me to take her life instead of your own. How foolish of me…" _

His snake-like face contorted into a gleeful smile_. "I will spare your life Harry, if you only give me the stone that lies in your pocket."_

Harry backed away slowly. "That's a lie. You're an evil bugger and you'll kill me anyway. A far greater wizard than you told me that a door once opened, can be stepped through in either direction. And that thought… Well, it's sitting right on your 'welcome' mat!"

"_True... Kill her!"_

Quirrell spun and raised his wand. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry saw the flash of green in slow motion. She dived to the side, tucking into a roll, and screamed, "MIONE, NOW! EXPULSO!"

"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"

Quirrell quickly shielded her explosion curse, but Hermione's body-bind hit home from behind. Quirrell toppled face first and when he hit the ground, Harry heard the sharp satisfying crack of his wand snapping. Harry conjured some ropes and tied Quirrell's frozen hands behind his back.

Voldemort's enraged, frozen face glared up at her as she stood over him.

Harry leveled her wand squarely between the sickening eyes.

"H-Harry…what are you doing?" questioned Hermione hesitantly.

The Red Eyes… they were manic; filled with hate. She had only seen eyes like that in one other place: Dumbledore's memory. The man. The crazed man.

Harry knew the spell. It was in her mind as clear as day; how to cast it; how to speak it… she had lived it. All she had to do was gather her nearly exhausted magic, mutter the words, and Voldemort would disappear in a colossal wave of fire. Her hand shook.

_Do it._

_He's helpless…_

_So were you._

_Ron's alive._

_Your parents aren't._

_I can't!_

_Quirrell deserves it. They both do._

_I just… can't._

_Do it…_

_I ca-_

_Do it…_

_Do it…_

_Do it…_

"Do it…" she mumbled to no one. "_INCENDIOS GRA-_"

Her wand flew out of her hand, sailing across the room to be snatched deftly out of the air by none other, than Albus Dumbledore. His eyes crinkled as he gave her an understanding smile. "Harry, while you more than anyone deserves to finish that spell, I do not wish for you to become a killer today. These jobs are ultimately best left to old men, like myself." He strode over and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. As soon as he touched her, her body let go of every little bit of adrenaline she had left.

Every pain, ache, burn, cut, scrape, and bruise on her body suddenly made itself known. She sagged against the Headmaster and he caught her, holding her to his hip.

"He… touched me… tortured me… I need to…"

"Quirrell and Voldemort will assuredly meet their end tonight, Harry, but it will not be by your hand. Revenge is a most dangerous road, one I urge you not to venture down." He pointed his wand down at Voldemort and gave the monster a disappointed look, as if he were chastising a student. Voldemort's eyes bulged in what could have been rage, but looked more to Harry… like fear. Dumbledore spoke softly, "Till next time then, Tom. _Incendios Grata._"

The spell did not explode like in the Headmaster's memory, but rather, fell softly and calmly, bathing Quirrell and Voldemort in fire as hot as the sun. She wanted to look away, but she _needed_ to see them burn; needed to see the dying face of the one that had caused her such pain.

There was no scream. Silence reigned as the flame burned away the gleaming red stare.

Harry closed her eyes in relief.

0000

0000

"You destroyed me. You killed us. I should kill you where you stand."

Harry awoke with a start. The world was blurry. Someone had removed her glasses. She could see nothing except that she was in a hospital bed with the partitions drawn. It was dark. _Still night then._

"Alas, you will not. You are a good man. And even if you did try, I do not think you would succeed. If you attempt such an act… then you are more a fool than the Stone's seeker."

_That's Dumbledore. _

Harry made to sit up, but found she couldn't move a muscle; it was dreadfully painful to even try.

There was a slapping sound of flesh hitting flesh; a sound she was intimately familiar with from her time at the Dursleys.

_A backhand._

"Do not speak to me that way, _boy_!" The man's angered voice echoed with waves of power that she could feel in her bones. It pulsed with a feel of impossibility; timelessness. "I am Nicolas Blaise-Flamel! Merlin Ambrosius suckled at my wife's teat! I, his teacher, beat him for words of such insolence!"

"You're being-"

Flamel's cutting tone cresendoed to a mighty roar that felt like it shook the walls of the castle.

"NO! I RAISED THE GREAT TEMPLE OF STONEHENGE WITH A WAVE OF MY STAFF! I SAW THE RISE OF ARTHUR; SAW HIS BLOODY FALL AT MORDRED'S DARK BLADE! I HAVE TOUCHED THE BARK OF YGGDRASIL ITSELF; BASKED IN ITS UNHOLY LIGHT! I AM THE RIGHT HAND OF GODRIC GRYFFINDOR! SALAZAR THE BLACK DIED BY _MY_ WAND! I DO NOT CARE IF YOU ARE THE MOST POWERFUL WIZARD IN THE WORLD, _APPRENTICE!_ I AM THE ONCOMING STORM… AND YOU WILL SHOW ME RESPECT!"

Silence… and then…

"I am sorry, Nicolas." Professor Dumbledore's voice was quiet, almost cowed. "I spoke out of turn. But you must see reason. It had to be destroyed. The world cannot survive a Dark Lord that truly is immortal."

Flamel spoke somberly, rage and impossibility lost in mere seconds. "You've killed me; killed Perenelle. How could you, Albus? You were like a son to us."

"I do not believe you are afraid to die, teacher. You glimpsed the white shores of eternity when the Elixir first touched your lips. No… a man that has lived for seventeen hundred years does not fear death; he embraces it. You have lived on borrowed time; time that was never yours; time soaked in guilt. You… both of you… crave death… for I know you wish to see them again."

It was a long time before either man said a word. Harry thought they had left from her bedside.

"I am afraid, Albus; afraid of what they will say to their father… to their murderer."

"You made a mistake, old friend. How could you have known of the exchange? You only discovered the terrible price of Alchemy after you lost them."

"Why do you think the stone is blood red, Albus?" Flamel cried out in an anguished voice, "It's because it's forged by blood! Life for life! It drained my children dry! Even my unborn child! They died a terrible, painful death! My wife was left barren, delivering naught but ash and bone! You have condemned me to face their judgment!"

"Mistakes are easily forgiven, Nicolas; especially mistakes that are regretted with every fiber of your being. Really… it is long since time for you to start your next adventure… with your family at your side."

There was another long silence.

"Will you be there… when… when it is time?"

"Nothing would stop me but my _own_ end. And that is years away yet. You have enough doses of Elixir to last another decade. Take Perenelle away. Do the things you have never done. Travel the world… go to Cabo."

"Ahh Cabo," Flamel said wistfully. "Yet, I do not think I could with another war on the horizon. The darkness rises once more."

"Nicolas, you have fought the dark wars for millennia. It is time to lay down your wand and leave the battles to we… sprightly young folk." Dumbledore wheezed pointedly.

Flamel actually chuckled. "Of all those throughout the centuries that have born my knowledge, Albus, _of you_ I am proudest. You are a greater man than I; a greater man than Merlin, although mind you, _he_ was an arrogant little snot… rightfully so, but still."

Harry heard receding footsteps.

"Nicolas?"

The footsteps paused.

She heard Dumbledore sigh softly. "For what it is worth… I _am_ sorry."

"Ah. Well, no matter. It… had to be done. And you are right, Albus. It has been long since time… and I am so very tired."

"I will write."

She listened to the sounds of his feet fading into the distance.

"So… Harry… I am most glad that you are awake."

_How does he do that?_

A purple and white blur parted the curtain and sat on the edge of her bed. Her glasses slid onto her face.

Professor Dumbledore's smiling visage was the first thing she noticed. The second… was the rather large pile of sweets and toilet seats stacked behind him.

"Tokens from your well wishers. The events that transpired between yourself and Voldemort are a complete secret, so naturally… the whole school knows. Several students throughout the school are fond of the notion that you are quite keen to blowing up toilets, and thus, have taken the liberty of doing so in your stead. It has caused Argus no small amount of heartache."

Harry wanted to laugh; she did. _But… _"Sir… he _is_ gone, right?"

Dumbledore smiled at her sadly. "I believe you already know the answer to that question, Harry. You have seen him; seen how he so desperately clings to life. This isn't the end of Voldemort, but for now… yes, he is gone." Dumbledore paused and curled a finger into his beard. "I wonder, Harry, may I once again step into your mind? I will not walk down the corridor. I will merely graze against your surface memories. I would like to see the events that transpired throughout your venture down the third floor corridor."

"It doesn't matter to me," said Harry slowly. "I trust you completely, Professor."

Professor Dumbledore was speechless for a moment, but then he smiled and his hand reached out to lightly clasp her shoulder. Surprisingly… she didn't flinch away. "To know that you feel that way, Harry, is, to me, the greatest honor I have _ever_ been bestowed."

While Voldemort's touch in her mind had been repulsive, Dulmbledore's was light, delicate, and friendly. She relived the whole day as if she was watching one of Dudley's many movies on fast forward. When he withdrew, they both gasped slightly, as if they had come up for air. His hand slid off her shoulder and up to cup her cheek. His palm was wrinkled, soft against her burned and bruised skin.

The Headmaster's face was filled with remorse. "My dear girl… I must apologize. It was my fault. I have realized… that this school is where I truly belong and where I will remain from this point forward. No more will I be tempted to involve myself in political affairs. I will keep a much closer watch on your well being, Harry."

She nodded and muttered her thanks, before a question popped into her head. "Professor Dumbledore, do you know why I could see into Quirrell's mind? Why I had the vision?

"Alas Harry to that question, I cannot give you a straight answer. I can only theorize and speculate." Dumbledore scratched his thickly bearded chin and continued, "Perhaps you are mentally linked to Voldemort; perhaps in your augmented state you broke into his mind or perhaps Voldemort broke into yours; perhaps you are a seer; perhaps fate is sending you warning signs. When your mother sacrificed her own life to save yours, a most mysterious and powerful magic was forged between you both. Your mother's love saved you from death, but we do not truly know what magics occurred that night; what occurred when death met love."

"And Sir… Lavender-"

Dumbledore sat back and waved her off. "I will have words with her, Harry. You did the right thing."

Harry's mind was buzzing with questions. "And the Stone… W-Why couldn't it just be put back into the mirror? Quirrell couldn't get at it could he? Nicolas… he… he deserved to live."

Dumbled sighed and said wearily, "I did what I had to do to protect this school; this world. The enchantments I placed on the Mirror throughout the year were mere tricks; extensions of its secret. Do you remember what I told you as we sat before it? Those who do not understand the secret, will never understand its images. Voldemort saw into your mind, Harry; saw the secret of the Mirror." Dumbledore raised his wand and wrote in the air as if he was chalking on a board.

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

_Ecna lig ivoteri fym evigi._

_Eci rava ot tont surt._

_Suo utri veht ot edec._

With a flourish of his wand, the letters rearranged themselves.

_I show not your face but your heart's desire._

_I give my fire to vigilance._

_Trust not to avarice._

_Cede to the virtuous._

"So you see, Harry, knowing the secret, Voldemort would be able to unravel my enchantments on a whim. The Mirror of Erised was no longer a safe place for the Stone."

"So it's… it's my fault that-"

Dumbledore chuckled and quickly cut her off. "Of course not, dear girl. Long have I tried to convince Nicolas to pass on. Tonight… I made the choice for him. You may call me a monster if you wish, but death is not to be feared. Nicolas knew this perhaps more than any other. You heard from his own mouth that he cared not about living, but was afraid of what awaited him beyond death."

Harry sat in silence, trying to absorb it all.

Dumbledore got up and walked over to the candies, browsing the selection and muttering something about passwords. "Ohhh yes. Quite the horde you have here, Harry. Do you mind?" he asked, gesturing to a package of Bertie Bott's.

"Help yourself, sir."

Dumbledore brought the box back to the bed, pulling out a yellow bean. "Ah… a most intriguing cheese flavor," he said, chewing it slowly, holding out the box to Harry. She picked out a red bean out and popped it in her mouth.

_Strawberry. _

A soft moan escaped her lips as the sweet flavor flooded her senses, soothing her.

"Do you have any more questions for me, Harry?"

She didn't swallow the jellybean, but rather, kept it under her tongue until it had dissolved completely. "Quite a few, sir, but… I'm a bit…"

"Exhausted? Yes, I quite understand. You have known more pain, fear, and heartache tonight, than what many experience in an entire lifetime. It is time… for a well deserved rest. We will find answers to your questions another day. My office door is always open... and I mean that quiet literally. My gargoyle has taken quite a liking to you. He has been in a foul mood ever since our daily sessions ended." Dumbledore smiled, stood, and, with a little pat on Harry's hand, swiftly left the Hospital Wing.

The next morning, she awoke to the sight of a familiar shag of red hair and twinkling crystal blue eyes; eyes she had thought she would never see open again.

She raised a hand, wincing with the pain, and Ron clasped it tightly within his own palms. "Hey Harry."

"Ron… I can't believe you're… I had thought…" Harry closed her eyes, his blood soaked forehead flashing across her mind. "I thought I lost you.

"Nah, look… just a bump on the head. Can't get rid of me that easily, can you? Weasleys are only allowed to go out in a blaze of glory, not playing a wonky game of chess." He joked, but she saw the emotion right under the surface.

Harry reached up and pulled him down for a hug. "Ron… don't you _ever_ do anything like that to me again," Nuzzling his neck, she added, "Or I'll tell your mum."

"Oi! Weasleys don't tattle!" Ron cried in mock outrage.

Harry grinned. "Not a Weasley."

He gave her hair a good ruffling and it all fell into her face. "Yeah you are."

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_Move faster train!_

Ginny sat quietly on a bench with a small bag of banana sandwiches in her lap, staring intently into each compartment as the scarlet engine inched further into the station. She picked nervously at the hem of her yellow sundress. This morning, for some unexplained reason, she had felt she had to look her best.

A week ago, Mum had told her that Harry had been severely injured and was recovering in the hospital wing, but didn't bother to tell her how, or why, or where. She knew next to nothing. Ron had sent her the last letter Harry had written on the day of her injury. Ginny had memorized it by heart.

_Dear Gin,_

_Soon we get to see each other again. Just one more week. And then a few more weeks after that, we get to spend an entire year together! I want to explain why my letters have been so short, but I can't, not on paper. I need you to be there with me when I talk about it. So this summer I will. I made a promise. One secret only. Exams went well. I think Ron did better than I did in bloody History of Magic. I was just staring through Professor Bins for half the exam. Hope you're not doing too many chores._

_I miss you,_

_Harry_

In the last six weeks or so, she hadn't really gleamed anything at all about what Harry was up to, and when that letter came, a thousand worse case scenarios played out in her head. She found a loose thread in the hem and twirled it between her fingers.

Ginny's heart flipped when she found them at the very back of the train. Hermione, Ron, that boy 'Nev,' and Harry were all chatting and laughing in their small compartment. Their mouths moved but she heard nothing with the window between them. The Hogwart's Express slowed to a stop with a huge burst of purple steam. The four stood, gathering up their belongings, and exited the compartment to haul out their trunks

Ginny stood, calmly watching her from across the platform. Harry's shiny raven black hair, gleaming in the sunlight, was pulled back into a low ponytail that dangled in a wild mess over her shoulder; long bangs hanging every-which-way. Her still perfectly pearl white dress, with the little sash of black lace, swirled about her knees in a flurry.

As Harry turned to say goodbye to Nev, Ginny shivered. Her eyes had changed since she had last seen her. They were darker, harder… fiercer.

After goodbyes, the round faced boy was pulled away by a very stern looking old woman. Harry, Hermione, and Ron remained by their compartment, not yet seeking their families. The three stood close, so close that they almost seemed… attached.

Harry was hugging Hermione when her dark emerald gaze met Ginny's amber. It was as if a veil had suddenly been lifted. Ginny saw the hardened look disappear; saw her face soften, pink lips parting slightly as she drew a sharp intake of breath.

Ron's goodbye was longer… much, much longer. They talked quietly, leaning against the train, occasionally bursting out in fits of laughter that carried all the way to her ears. Not even Ron's loud tenor could stop Harry's soprano tinkle from reaching her. She felt so warm when Harry laughed. A few weeks ago, she asked her mum if she had felt the same way when she heard it. Mum had hugged her and nodded saying, "the laughter and smiles of people who've had a hard life does that."

After they had hugged tightly, Ron walked over to Mum and Dad, where he was instantly pulled into tight embrace and fussed over.

The next thing Ginny knew, hands were sliding around her waist and up her back, a body was melding with her own, and soft hair was tickling her cheek. The faintest scent of sweet-smelling broomstick polish drifted past her nose.

Harry's lips tickled her ear as she moaned out in a dulcet tone, _"Oh Gin…_ I can't even describe… _I missed you so much_."

Ginny threw her arms behind Harry's neck and squeezed her tight, lips and chin resting on the girl's bared collarbone. "Harry, I… _me too._ Don't… don't go back with the muggles. Just… please come with us. I _need_ you to come with us. You just can't go back to that place."

"I have to, Gin," Harry said, slowly pulling back to lean her forehead against hers. She took one of Ginny's hands off her shoulder and put their wrists together. The charms clinked softly, spinning to meet in midair. "But look… we're always around each other, yeah?"

Ginny pulled away and was about to agree when she saw the large red burn on the underside of Harry's chin. "_Oh Harry! What happened?"_

"What? This old thing?" she asked jokingly, rubbing at it with a finger. "Just a little… temporary souvenir from the worst day ever."

Ginny brushed her fingers across it and Harry closed her eyes. "Does it hurt?"

"Nope. Madame Pomfrey said magic burns can be healed easily, but the magic kind of soaks into your skin and leaves the mark… or something. It'll be gone in a few weeks."

Ginny took her hand, picked up the bag of sandwiches, and dragged her back to pick up her trunk. "Did it happen last week? When you got hurt?"

Harry's brow furrowed in frustration. "Look, I promise… I'll tell you about everything when I come over. If you're desperate and have to know Ron can tell most of it. But I'd really like it if I could be the one that explains it all."

Ginny picked up Circe's cage and put it on Harry's cart. "I can wait. Although… Ron will probably blab about it anyway."

Harry giggled and said fondly, "yeah… he probably will. Knowing Ron, you'll know all about it by the time you-" She froze, gaze fixated on a spot behind Ginny. "Oh no… they're here… the Dursleys."

Ginny spun around to find herself staring at a rather odd looking family of three standing over on Platform Ten. There was an enormously rotund man with blonde hair and a large handlebar mustache. He was looking around as if he was embarrassed to be there. The boy next to him was the man in miniature without the mustache. Ginny thought they looked a bit like a pair of Russian nesting dolls.

Clutching the man's arm was a tall rail-thin woman that had her blonde hair up in what had to be an uncomfortably tight beehive-bun. Her neck was rather long and her skin rather pale. Her small nose and full lips were exactly the same shape as Harry's. Ginny supposed she would have been somewhat attractive for an older middle aged woman, had it not been for the disdainful look on her face that twisted her visage into something horse like.

"Harry… I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to go either."

"I want you to stay!"

"I want to stay too."

"But you can't?"

"Nope."

Ginny sighed and dragged her over to the rest of the Weasleys, where they all exchanged final farewells with Harry. Ginny handed her the bag of 'Monkey Candy.' "I made these for you, Harry… all by myself. They're for the ride back to Surrey."

Her mum smiled and patted her on the back of the head. "Yes…she almost blew up the kitchen as she did it too."

Ginny shooed her hand away. "_Muuum_. Leave off."

Harry hugged her tight once more and pecked a light kiss onto her cheek. "Thanks, Gin… they smell divine. I'll write whenever I can. Bye."

"Bye, Harry. See you in two months."

Harry squeezed Ginny's hand, punched Ron in the arm, and walked through the barrier. Ginny saw her reappear on Platform Nine and she walked slowly over to the Dursleys, pushing her cart and looking utterly miserable. The Dursleys didn't seem too happy to see her either.

She couldn't hear the heated conversation that passed between them. But it ended with her uncle grabbing the little brown bag out of Harry's hands and promptly throwing it into the nearest bin. She saw Harry cry out as she ran after the bag, but the large man roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the exit.

The entire family had seen the exchange. She took her father's large hand in her small one and leaned against him for support. "Dad… why… why do they treat her like that?"

His father frowned after the muggles. "I don't rightly know, GinBug. I'll never understand why Dumbledore put her with them. We offered to take her in after the attack. While he did want to give her to us, he said it was necessary for Harry to live with the Dursleys. Perhaps, in a different life, she could have been your sister."

Ginny tried to imagine a life with Harry as her sister.

_It wouldn't be all that different from the way things are right now._

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**Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page. Contains some NSFW content.**

**CoS ahoy!**

**Review!**

**Looking for a beta reader-grammar specific**

Yes, Harry letting slip to Ginny in the tub about 'what alice said' was indeed... on purpose : )

I made Quirrell the way he is because 1) we don't know anything about his true self in the books and 2) I wanted to show the really horrible things even the simplest magic could be used for. A body bind… a silencing charm… and you have a helpless victim at your feet.

Conjuring is a broadly used term in the books as the act of creating objects by picturing them in your mind. They conjur chairs, stools, teacups, all sorts of crap. I made up "apparo," since everyone does it wandlessly. Harry's mind is extremely adept, thus her natural skill with both conjuring and mind magic.


	8. Chapter 7: Higgery Piggery Porkery Pop

Welcome to CoS my _lovurly_ readers. I'm so excited. I'm doing my CoS dance. SNAKES!

**Just want to warn everyone. ****This story is rated M for a reason**. It will get darker through the years. Just like Jk, but far more instense. I'm going to address issues that no one is comfortable talking about: teenage sexuality, homosexuality, rape, murder, depression, horrible violence… but… along with all the good things too. It's about the things that make life great: love, friendship, family, and some really mind-blowing sex. It's about doing what's right, instead of what is easy.

So if any of you thought the last chapter was too dark with the child abuse… Well, might want to leave. There are darker chapters down the road. I _can_ promise you a great story. It's been cooking and boiling in my head for months… It's too bad I don't outline… I'll probably forget it all.

**Chapter 7: Higgery Piggery Porkery Pop**

_The jungle was high and the jungle was broad and the jungle was the entire world forever and ever._

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"I tell you, Lucius, Dumbledore is running that school into the ground! He's even pressuring the Ministry's financial offices to start sending support to underprivileged students; to riffraff like the Weasleys and the Midgens!"

"Do tell me, Rose, where _did_ you get that beautiful pendant? It looks goblin made… hand-cut too!"

"I do what I can, Cassius; pulling strings and breaking bridges. The other members on the Board of Governors hold Dumbledore in the highest regard. When public opinion shifts, more options will be open to us. We need a setback that will cripple his image before I can… _convince_ them. I have a few half-hatched ideas."

"Oh it is! It's wonderful of you to notice, Cissa. It was _such_ a find. I was wandering around the Place de Sorcellerie on my last trip to Paris and I found the most charming little jewelry shop. The owner didn't realize what he was selling and I got it for two-hundred galleons!"

Draco stirred his shellfish stew with disinterest. There had never been two more boring conversations in the history of spoken word.

Pansy stomped on his foot underneath the table, giving him a look that quite clearly said, 'I want to leave.'

He nodded his agreement and interrupted the sparkling dinner chat. "Mother, Father, Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson, may Pansy and I excuse ourselves for the evening?"

His father nodded. "Very well, Draco. Think on what we talked about this morning. I'd like you to accompany me tomorrow."

"I will, Father… Dobby! Don't touch me!" He backhanded the disgusting little elf that had been tugging on his pants leg.

Taking Draco's hand, Pansy pulled him from the Dining Hall and out to their favorite spot on the manor's Spanish veranda. She picked up her book, which had a half-naked man on the front, and sat down in one of his mother's extravagantly cushioned porch swings.

Draco couldn't help glimpsing her pink knickers as she folded her legs up onto the seat.

Pansy flicked her eyes to the empty cushion beside her.

Draco felt his face heat up and he quickly made an excuse not to obey. "I'm going to go for a fly before it gets dark. I need to practice."

A flash of what looked like disappointment crossed her face, but it vanished as quickly as it came. She shrugged ambivalently, her ever-present mask of aloofness sliding back into place.

Up in the air, on his brand new Nimbus Two-Thousand and One, he flew avidly around their private pitch, attempting to rid his mind of that little pink triangle up his playmate's skirt; up his _best friend's_ skirt… well, as best a friend as any Slytherin could have.

They both had birthday's in September; Draco's on the 10th and Pansy's on the 28th. In a little over two months, they would be thirteen. If he had been born eleven days earlier, they would have been in completely different years at school.

He was older, she was older… and he had started… _noticing things; _like the way her chest had bulged outward an inch at the end of the school year, almost overnight; like the way her hips had slimmed at the waist whilst thickening below; like the way her blouse rode up every time she reached into the air; like the way her straight, black hair rose and fell with her breath.

_Her black hair._

Draco just couldn't get used to it. As soon as they had returned home for the summer, Pansy had gone to Diagon Alley, bought hundreds of galleons worth of magical hair products, and had come to the mansion the next day looking like a completely different person. All his life, she had had little, blonde ringlets. Now it was silky, straight, and jet black... permanently, from what she told him. It reminded him of Harry's, but it was smooth, shorter, and tamed of course; Pansy would rather die than let herself have messy hair. Draco had to admit, he missed the ringlets, but now she was… well, she was gorgeous.

_Blue eyes, black hair, button nose. Any man would agree… that's just mean._

Draco soared around the hoops aimlessly, unable to focus on flying. It was only last week that he'd had his first _vivid _dream about Pansy and he couldn't get her out of his head.

_Well, Pansy and… and Harry._

Harry hadn't spoken to him since the forest, but he simply couldn't let her go so easily. The thought of her name alone would cause him to flash back to the dream.

_The two much older looking girls were on top of him; one on either side, their lips raking across his chest and neck. They moaned softly as their large dream-enhanced breasts brushed against his skin; groaned as his hands roamed their bodies freely, drifting across smooth, flawless skin. Pansy smashed her lips against Draco's and reached down to squeeze him lightly. Both girls giggled at his gasp of pleasure. When Pansy finally slid back, Harry slid up, positioning herself above his face, looking down at him with those beautiful green eyes. He raised his hands to cup her perfectly-rounded arse and-_

Draco shook himself roughly, "Stop it. You'll never replace Higgs if all you think about at tryouts is her arse. She doesn't even have an arse to think about. She's skin and bones."

'_Skin you wouldn't mind seeing,'_ said an annoying little voice in his head.

_"Gods,"_ he muttered bitterly. "I'm bloody talking to myself now."

Draco brought his Nimbus around to face the far posts. He had been flying for hours every day since his father had bought him the broom; training hard. He wanted to be as good as she was at something she loved. He wanted to be her equal... simply so she would speak to him again.

His father had bought six more brooms so that Draco could bribe the team into taking him on as a Seeker. He had thought it had been a grand idea at first, but now... Harry's disapproving face swam into view. She'd despise him for essentially cheating his way into her favorite sport. No, Draco had to make the team on his own. He would give them the brooms afterwards.

Draco rushed toward the hoops as fast as the sleek broomstick could carry him. The day before the leaving feast, Harry had gone flying with the Weasel. He had watched from the stands in utter astonishment as she performed the turn consistently. There were only a handful of Pro Seekers and Chasers in the entire League that could do the same.

As he approached the hoop, he dipped a leg down.

_I'm so going to die. _

His foot latched around the top rim; he pushed downward on the broom handle; he started to spin!

Instead of slingshotting through the hoop and corkscrewing off in the direction he had just come from, he shot straight down, the Nimbus' handle catching on the lower rim of the ring. It flew out from under him and he plummeted towards the ground at a horrendous speed.

Land was closing in. Screaming, he collided into it and… _bounced_ to a halt.

_Oh right… practice pitch charms. _

Head reeling, he saw Pansy running towards him across the lush grass.

"Draco! Are you alright?"

Draco slowly stood up only to have her crash into him, knocking them both back down to the grass. Pansy was on top of him, her small breasts heaving against his chest as she hugged him tightly. He suddenly became distinctly aware of every place their bodies were touching.

"I'm alright," Draco said quickly, pushing her back as he felt his erection grow. "Get off!"

He blushed, hoping to God she couldn't feel it against her stomach.

Pansy's face reddened and she quickly removed herself.

_Bollocks, she did._

Draco sat up to hide the tent in his pants. He couldn't look at her; couldn't _say_ anything as she hovered over him… just… watching. He could almost feel her pale-blue eyes trying to bore their way into his skull.

Quite suddenly, without a word, Pansy spun and marched back to her book. Draco groaned miserably into his knee, pounding his head down upon it to better accentuate his thoughts.

_Shite! Bollocks! Motherfucker!_

Feeling apprehensive, Draco stood, picked up his broom, and strode slowly across the field and onto the veranda. The cooling charms on the house washed over him as he collapsed into the hanging swing. It took him ages to finally say sincerely, "I'm sorry, Pans… It just happened."

Pansy ignored him and continued to stare down at her book. He noticed however, that her eyes weren't moving across the pages; pages that she wasn't turning. She sat painfully still as his eyes raked over her body and pretty face.

_Pansy smashed her lips against Draco's and reached down to squeeze him lightly. Both girls giggled at his gasp of pleasure._

With a heavy sigh, Draco spun the swing so they could look out at the peacocks strutting across the front lawn. A rather large one was sitting right at the edge of the veranda, its enormous multicolored plume spread upwards. Fate was laughing at him it seemed.

_Peacock mating season…_

He really didn't want the year to continue this way. After half-an-hour of silence and watching the sun sink below the tree line, he managed to gather enough courage to drawl, "Look, _Pansy…_ it didn't mean-"

She cut him off in a harsh whisper, her mask of indifference falling away. "It meant something to me!"

Draco froze in fear, the beat of his heart increasing tenfold.

Pansy bit her bottom lip and closed her book, setting it softly in her lap. Eyes cast downward and away from him, she hesitantly asked, "Does it… Does it mean you think I'm pretty, then?"

While his brain cowered in the corner of his skull, Draco heard the words tumble from his mouth, as if they were being spoken by another. "I've always thought you were pretty."

"Even though I look…" Her moistened gaze rose to meet his and she gestured at her face. "Terry Boot said… He said I looked like a pug and… and you just sat there!"

_Bugger. _

"Honest, Pans, I didn't hear him. I would've done something about it."

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "I know you didn't! You were too busy staring at Potter- No! Don't you dare give me that," she said angrily as he tried to deny it. "I see how you look at her when you think no one's watching. It's like you're a toddler and she's a toy that got taken away from you. I _hate _her Draco! I hate her and I hate that you… I… I see how you look at her and it's made me realize that…" She trailed off, huffing.

Draco gazed at her apprehensively and asked, "Made you realize what?"

Pansy took her sweet time to answer. She fiddled with her shirt; flipped through her book; scratched her leg. Eventually, she gathered herself and whispered heatedly, "That I… _I don't like it_."

He thought he knew what was coming and… Well, he wanted to help it along. "Why don't you like it?"

Pansy looked away and scoffed, saying huffily, "Because she's too pretty… Prissy Pretty Potter. She thinks she's _so _great with her_ Quidditch_ and her _grades_ and her stupid little _friends_."

"What does that have to do with me looking at her?"

"Well, because I… I… I _like_ you, Draco!" Pansy glanced nervously at his face before her gaze returned to her shoes. "I have since… since I saw you so upset over her… after the sorting.

_Do I? I think I do. My body certainly does. _

"I like you too, Pans."

When her head rose again, she was smiling widely. "Do you… do you mean it?" she asked anxiously, her black hair glittering and bouncing in the now risen moonlight. "You don't think I look like a… a pug dog?"

Draco laughed and replied weakly, "Of course I don't think you look like a dog. You're prettier than every girl in…"

_Harry slid up, positioning herself above him and looking down at his face with those beautiful green eyes. _

Draco reached his hand over to Pansy's cheek and brushed his thumb down between her eyes to the little sharp tip in the middle of her face. "Your nose is small and it turns up a bit, but it… it suits you… very well."

She turned her head into his palm and held it to her shoulder.

Pansy was so much closer now… seeing as they had been steadily inching towards each other. In what was likely his bravest voice, he continued. "But that's not the only reason why I like you. I like you, because you're my… my best friend, Pans. The looks are just a bonus."

Pansy was raising herself up off the cushions, gazing intently into his eyes. "Do you… Do you like Potter?"

Draco knew he wouldn't be able to lie to her while she stared at him like that. "I…"

Pansy frowned and paused. "Do you like me more than you like her?" Her eyes were sparkling with hope and Draco could tell exactly what answer she needed to hear. Thankfully… his answer to that question was the truth.

Draco slowly nodded.

_A life without Harry is… Well, what I've been living for a year really. But a life without Pans…_

"Yeah, I… I do, Pansy."

He leaned down. She leaned up. Their lips met softly… innocently… awkwardly… and clumsily… but it felt nice; it felt right. The kiss was cut short when Pansy suddenly pulled away.

She was crying.

_Bugger! What did I do?_

"Draco, I've… I've been meaning to tell you all week... and now I…" She seemed to steel herself and said quickly, "Father has… has entered into negotiations for a contract with the Notts."

Draco sat back, totally floored.

_Is that coincidence? Well, this makes things easier! We could just… switch. _

"Pansy… _my_ Father opened negotiations with the Greengrass family… just a few days ago. I was going to tell you, but… I didn't really know how."

Pansy stood up quickly. "I don't want to marry Theodore. He has terrible body odor."

Draco got to his feet slowly and placed a hand to her waist. "And I don't want to marry Daphne... or her baby sister for that matter. Neither of them can ever stop gibbering. So then… do you?"

"Draco?" Pansy asked huskily, stepping closer and pressing her body into his. "Are you asking me what I think you're asking?"

"Yeah, Pans… I am." He drew back and nervously placed a little kiss on her nose. "Even if this doesn't...you know... work... Well, I'd rather be arranged with you than with someone else."

She nodded avidly in agreement. "Do you think we can convince them?"

"I don't… I don't know. Father so rarely changes his mind. Hopefully."

Pansy put her arms around his neck and kissed him again. This time it was less chaste; fiercer. Their bodies molded together. It was still awkward, but equally as nice as the previous. She smelled divine… like roses. Draco knew she liked to use all sorts of fragrant oils in her bathwater, as she had so frequently told him, always making him smell her when she found a new one. He used to think the scent was a bit too strong and a little ripe… but now… he found it intoxicating.

Her lips massaged his own softly. Draco tried to match her, but was rather… clumsy in his attempts.

_I wonder if Harry kisses like this? Probably, won't ever know. _

He got rid of the thought quickly, giving Pansy his full attention. When he slid a hand down to the small of her back, she whimpered quietly, opening her mouth just the tiniest bit. He could taste the strong wine they had sampled at dinner; it was lingering on her tongue as it darted out just quickly enough to brush his bottom lip.

Pulling away, Daco asked in a curious drawl, "Where did you learn to kiss?"

Eyes still closed, mouth still moving, Pansy blushed fiercely and mumbled, "I would practice on my pillow… pretending that it was you."

Draco smirked at the solid ego stroking. "Sorry that I'm not any good."

"Mmmmm... Better than my pillow," Pansy moaned dazedly.

Draco's heart began to beat a little faster, increasing from a quick pounding to a steady roar of heavy thuds. "Let's go ask them." He dragged her back into the mansion and led her to the drawing room where his parents and the Parkinsons most likely now resided. Hearing laughter inside, he pushed open the door.

The room quieted when he and Pansy entered. His Father's steely-grey eyes immediately trained upon their clasped hands. "Yes?" he drawled slowly. "What can we help you with, Draco?"

Draco's breaking voice quavered as he stood under the penetrating gaze of the four adults. "Father, I have… I have thought about what we discussed. I wish for… for both my own and Pansy's marriage negotiations to cease. I wish for the Malfoy and Parkinson families to engage in new contracts… to… to each other."

While Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson's faces lit up with delight, for the Malfoy family was far wealthier than the Notts, his father laughed in derision. "Cassius and I have already aligned the families through business and friendship. There is no need for further bonds. I have told you time and time again that this is what marriage is for Draco; to cement the bonds between the old families. You will marry a daughter of the Greengrass line."

Mrs. Parkinson said hastily, "Come now, Lucius. You've seen how they dote on each other. It would be a fine match."

Draco knew the woman didn't truly care about 'how they doted on each other.' Her face betrayed her greed. He supposed his own face would've done the same if he suddenly was on the verge of receiving hundreds of thousands of galleons.

Mrs. Parkinson went on to say, "We are just as, if not wealthier than the Greengrass family, and certainly less closely related to your own. Belvina Black, daughter to Phineus Nigellus and sister to Cygnus, married Herbert Burke, one of Cassius' Great Grandfathers… so they're fourth cousins on Narcissa's and Cassius' side if I'm remembering the Black family tree correctly. I'm _sure_ there are no other connections between the other lines for at least ten generations."

Draco's father was glaring daggers at him. "You shame me, Draco, by bringing this matter to my attention in the presence of the proposed party."

"Father, please… Let this be the last favor you ever grant me." Pansy squeezed his hand and he said resolutely, "Truly, Father, the last."

"It is fine by me, Lucius," Mr. Parkinson said happily, standing to pour Daraco's father some more whiskey. "I do, however, understand your hesitation. Talks are not so easy to break… I imagine the Notts will be most displeased. But think of it my friend, the last completely pure lines of the two oldest and wealthiest families, united as one."

His mother patted his father on the arm. "Lucius, dear… it is a different age. We have no real need for an alliance with the Greengrass family. Let him have the woman he wants. Their children will be _most_ beautiful."

His father sat down in his large leather armchair and took a swig of the Firewhiskey. Leveling his angry gaze at Draco, he drawled heavily, "Very well, Draco… the _last_ favor. You will accompany me to the Greengrass residence to break off the talks." His father turned to Mr. Parkinson. "Cassius, please accompany me into my study. We can discuss terms."

Draco pulled Pansy from the room and back to the Veranda; back to their swing.

They sat quietly and watched the shadowy peacocks trotting through the yard, each trying to absorb what this now meant for them. Pansy leaned up against him, entwining her fingers with his own. "You just sacrificed so much, Draco." She kissed his cheek soundly. "When we're married, I'll always remember this. I'll… I'll be the perfect wife… just like your mother."

"It was a fair sacrifice to avoid Greengrass." He joked dryly, but brushed his thumb across her knuckles to reassure that there was more to it than that. "I don't need you to be the perfect wife, or like my mother... _especially_ not like my mother. Just be your normal self and that… Well, that will always be enough for me."

_Did I just say that?_

Pansy giggled at his cheesy line and got up, grabbing both of his hands to pull him back into the house. She lead him down the long richly-carpeted south-wing corridor to…

_Oh no... not this._

Pansy pushed open the Great Ballroom's doors and ran inside with a squeal of laughter. Draco moaned as the girl tapped her wand against the bandstand and the full orchestra of instruments jumped into the air to tune themselves.

She twirled over to him like a ballerina, arms out in a circle in front of her. "Dance with me, Draco!"

"You know I hate to dance."

"I know you hate to dance with Madame Truvotski." Pansy grinned at him as she took his hand and placed it around her waist. "Dance with me… to celebrate."

Draco groaned, "Must I?"

The orchestra started to play and she fell against him, planting a little kiss on the side of his mouth. "Yes."

The strings started to pluck and the horns alighted into a Spanish trill.

_Salsa? Really? How... muggle._

As they started to step and twist hips in time to the beat, he whispered into her ear, "You know, you didn't have to dye your hair like hers to get me to notice you. I've always liked yours."

Pansy smirked and grabbed the back of his neck as he dipped her. "Parkinson women always get what they want. This was what you wanted… and I wanted you."

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She closed the car door and put on her belt. "Dad… do you think she's okay?"

"I'm sure she's fine, GinBug," her father said rationally, firing the ignition of their Ford Anglia.

Ginny fiddled nervously with her sunhat. "But… why hasn't she written? Circe could make the trip from Surrey to Devon in an hour or two. It's not like her… we wrote a letter to each other at least once a week, even when she was … sick… if that's actually what she was, _Ron."_

"Oi," moaned Ron from the front seat. "Harry wants to tell you herself. Pipe down already. And I bet there's a perfectly normal reason for why she hasn't written. Besides, it was Errol that delivered _our_ letters… so she probably hasn't gotten any either!" He tried to smile at her reassuringly, but she could tell he was just as worried as she was.

Ginny sat back and tried to relax as the car trundled off down the country lane. She found some small solace in picturing Harry's face when she arrived at her first ever birthday party. Ginny had iced the chocolate cake with strawberry cream, made with the juice of berries right from the patch. The icing, which she had made herself, was surprisingly good… according to Ron… which unfortunately didn't mean that much as he would avidly eat anything besides corned beef and bananas.

For a present, she had helped Mum make Harry a new dress. It looked very much like the one her friend wore already, except that it was light green and had little shoulder straps instead of sleeves. Ginny had tried it on and they had fixed all the little uncomfortable bits until it was absolute heaven to wear.

Ginny's charm started to move after about an hour of driving. They were close enough that when the car shifted directions, the snitch would spin ever so slightly. She stared excitedly out the window at the cookie cutter suburban houses that all looked exactly the same.

_How odd. They only have one chimney._

Her father spun the wheel. "Ah, lovely. Here we are then."

They passed by a little stone sign that read _Privet Drive_. Ginny saw the fourth house; she couldn't take her eyes off it as they drove in slow motion down the little road. The house had a red brick front, white siding, and a chicken-free perfectly maintained lawn.

Ginny opened the car as it was still slowing to a stop, jumped out, smoothed down her yellow sundress, and ran up the sidewalk to Harry's front door. There was no knocker, but there was a little button on the door frame. Her hand hovered over it.

_What if she doesn't want to see me? What if she didn't write because… No… I… I won't believe that._

Ginny pressed it.

A bell rang out inside the house. There was a few moments pause before the curtains next to the doorframe-window parted. A familiar, bony face peered out at her.

_Harry's Aunt._

The locks clicked and the door swung open. The woman in a blue apron smiled down at her. "Yes… May I help you, young lady?"

"Oh, yes, Hello… My name is Ginny Weasley," she said nervously.

The woman nodded. "Very nice to meet you."

_She doesn't seem too bad…_ _not like Harry described her._

"Oh yes. Thank you. You as well." Harry's aunt nodded again and gazed at her expectantly. "Well, you see, today is Harry's Birthday and we've come to pick her up. She hasn't been returning our letters and I've been … we've been very worried."

As soon as Ginny uttered Harry's name, the woman went sheet white and her kind smile turned into something rather ugly. "There… There isn't a Harry Potter in this house," she spat venomously. "Good day to you."

_What? __Why would she lie?_

Harry's Aunt started to close the door but Ginny put out a hand to stop it. "You're lying! We saw you pick her up at the train station!" she said incredulously. Her charm bracelet was pointing into the house. "I know she's here… I always know where she is!"

The horse-faced woman tried to slam the door on her, but Ginny threw her whole body-weight behind it, digging her toes into the ground. "And I… I never said Potter!"

The woman was frightened and pushing on the door with all her strength.

_Something is… Something's wrong!_

"What have you done to her?" Ginny asked fiercely. She called out into the house, "Harry?"

"I said good day!" Harry's aunt shoved Ginny backwards and slammed the door with a great BANG.

"NO!" Ginny ran back to the door and pounded on it. There was no answer.

_Harry… _

She cried out frantically to the parked car behind her. "DAD!"

Ron and her father got out and sprinted to her. "Dad, they won't let me in! Harry's in there and… and they said she wasn't! They've… they've done something!" Her heart was pounding heavily.

Her father placed his wand to his temple and said quietly, "Dumbledore, problem at Privet drive. Hurry." Releasing the wand from his head he pointed it skyward, closed his eyes and cried, _"Expecto Patronum!"_ A blast of silver light shot into the sky and sped off. "Move out of the way Ginny." Her father pushed her behind his body and tapped the door with his wand. It flew open and he strode forward into the house, wand pointing into every corner of the front hall.

Harry's large uncle barreled out into the hallway. He took them in, his beady eyes fixating on her father's wand. His face rapidly turned a bright shade of purple. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?"

Dad pushed Ron in the direction of the staircase. "Ron, check upstairs."

Her brother darted up and into one of the several rooms on the second floor, calling out fervently, "Harry! Where are you?"

Her father leveled his wand at the man and growled in the angriest voice she had ever heard him use, "Where's Harry? What have you done with her?"

The fat man advanced on them, gesticulating wildly with his pudgy hands. "SHE'S NOT HERE! SHE RAN OFF!"

Ron's cry echoed down the stairs. "DAD! FOUND HARRY'S OWL! IT'S LOCKED UP!"

Her father strode forward and pressed his wand into the man's bulbous chest. "Locked up?"

Harry's Uncle backed away quickly, shaking a meaty finger at them. "I DEMAND THAT YOU-"

It seemed that Dad had had enough. "Stupefy!"

The bolt of red light slammed into the man and he collapsed on the floor with a mighty boom that rocked the whole house. Harry's Aunt shrieked and ran to his side.

Ginny, who had been cautiously standing on the door frame, strode into the house, her eyes on her wrist. She walked down the hall and when she passed through the hall into the living room, the snitch charm swung around to point back to the staircase. There was a small door, about three fourths of her height, right in the middle of the wall that supported the stairs... and... it was _padlocked_ shut.

A truly ominous feeling was emanating from the little door.

_Harry's cupboard… where she spent her whole life. _

"_Dad!_ Look…" Her charm was pointing right at it. "She's in the cupboard!"

Her father pointed his wand and said harshly, "Alohomora."

The door sprang open.

He father ran toward it, getting down on a knee to peer inside. "_Sweet Merlin!"_ he cried in shock, turning away his head and putting a hand over his mouth.

_What…_

Ginny's legs moved as if made of wood. Her eyes were fixed upon the edge of a ratty mattress and two little black shoes. She got to the frame. The smell emanating from the tiny space was absolutely horrid; it was like rot and sweat and excrement put together. She knelt down at the side.

Her father reached out, trying to close the door. "Wait. Don't-"

Vomit instantly rose in her mouth when she saw Harry curled up in a fetal position. She was thin; _too_ thin; almost skeletal. Her skin was dry and cracked in a large spider web of gashes; her blackened veins clearly visible through the flesh. Her dress was covered in what could only be her own waste. Her arms were bruised and resting by her head; one hand swollen to twice the size of the other and out of alignment with her wrist. Her lips were parted, deformed, as if they had shriveled. But the worst was Harry's eyes; dull and half open; the lower lids crusted with white buildup; green orbs staring blankly back at Ginny_._

_No! _

"Oh my… _Harry?"_ Ginny frantically tugged at the mattress, pulling it out of the cupboard and down onto the floor. Harry's limp body rolled into her arms, flopping like a rag doll. Her hair, caught in the cracks of her skin, lacked the silky feel that made Ginny want to play with it all day long. She clutched at the matted messy black tresses, shaking Harry lightly, pleading with her.

"Harry…" She brushed a trembling hand over Harry's little round glasses; over the dry tip of her nose, over her cracked and bloodied lips. "…wake up."

She didn't wake.

_You can't be. _

Ginny caressed the girl's cheek and shook her harder. "Oh Harry, talk to me… _please_… _HARRY?_!" Ginny buried her head into the familiar crook of Harry's neck, her sobs bubbling up from her chest as her best friend in the world… her sister… lay still. She moaned in a weak voice, "Daddy… she's not breathing!"

_You can't be dead! Harry…_

Her father's hands fell around her waist and started to pull. Ginny screamed as she was parted from Harry, anguish and denial flooding through her body, suffocating her. She latched onto Harry's arm and the girl was pulled off the bed. "She's not… _no!"_

_Let me go!_

He shushed her softly, kissing her head and whispering soothingly into her ear. "She's gone, baby. There's… there's nothing we can do. H-Hush now. She's… in a better place." He pulled the limp arm from her grasp. As soon as she no longer felt Harry's skin against her own, realization and all consuming despair hit her body like a freight train. She went weak, her heart dropped out of her chest.

_She's dead. She's dead. She's dead. She's dead. She's dead. Harry's dead. They took… she's gone… my only… oh God! Harry! _

At her scream, Ron had come thumping back down the stairs, arms containing Circe, Alice, a wand, books, and some clothes. Everything clattered out of his hands when he saw her body. He walked stiffly toward her, sank down, took Harry into his arms, and was silent.

Ginny stared blankly around the room at the pictures of Harry's life… or rather, the lack of pictures of Harry's life. Not anywhere did she see a beautiful white smile. Not anywhere did she see black hair. Not anywhere did she see a pair of brilliant green eyes. All were filled with the same three people: two fat, one thin.

_They… don't love her like we do. Like I do. They don't… they didn't deserve her!_

Harry's aunt was still kneeling over her stunned husband. She didn't even have eyes for her dead niece. Ginny heart started to beat again, growing in strength until her whole body was pulsing with its rhythm. She struggled against her father, screaming, "YOU! YOU… KILLED…"

Ginny was suddenly free from her father's grasp.

He cried out and dove for her legs. "Ginny, no!"

She dodged around him, ran down the hall, and slammed into the bony woman.

_**YOU KILLED MY HARRY! **_

Ginny's small fists beat into the woman's flesh. Her fingernails tore at the dull eyes and horselike face. Her hands pulled at blonde hair, slamming the woman's head into the ground. Petunia shrieked and tried to push her off, but Ginny, despite her smaller size, battered the offending arms away in rage. Although Harry's Aunt was bleeding heavily, Ginny didn't feel the least bit of satisfaction.

She got in another six good solid punches to the face before a soft, yet commanding voice called out, "That will do, Miss Weasley."

Her body froze in place. She rose into the air, soaring backward to hover right next to a very old man in purple robes. She couldn't speak; she couldn't move. She could only cry.

The old man took Ron by the shoulder and attempted to gently pry Harry's body from his arms. Her brother shrieked and flailed out wildly, throwing his body over Harry's and clutching her tight. The old man sighed and did the same to Ron as he had done to Ginny, saying in a slightly wheezing voice, "I apologize sincerely to both of you."

The man knelt down and gently took Harry's head in his hands. He placed his wand to her temple, muttered, and was silent for what seemed to Ginny like hours. She couldn't see his face, but when he stood and turned to face them, he was… _smiling._ "Harry lives."

There was a great pressure on the sides of her head; a mighty roar in her ears. She suddenly found that her eyelids were much too heavy to keep open any longer.

_She sat in a small space on a ratty mattress, knees to her chest, hand broken, starring at a little light in the shape of two bent spirals that connected to become one. _

_It was so… so… so… squiggle. No, that wasn't it… Squiggly? No… Coiled? No… Complex? No… Intricate? No… Elaborate? No… Elegant? No… Evocative? No… _

_It's so... beautiful._

Ginny snapped awake. She moaned at the sudden burst of white, almost fluorescent light and threw up an arm to shield her eyes. When her vision adjusted, the first thing she noticed about her surroundings was that she was neither at Number Four Privet Drive, nor The Burrow. She was in a chair; a chair in a hallway; a hallway that smelled obscenely clean.

The second thing she noticed was the rather large, brightly colored, eyesore of a logo that sat directly in front of her. In its center were a bone and a wand, crossed like swords on a coat of arms. At the top were large neon green letters that read:

**6****TH**** FLOOR: EMERGENCY CARE.**

At the bottom, there were much smaller letters that read:

_ST. MUNGO'S HOSPITAL FOR MAGICAL MALADIES AND INJURIES._

The third thing she noticed was the presence of a head on her shoulder; Ron's head to be exact. He gave an almighty snore right in her ear and Ginny rolled her eyes.

The fourth thing she noticed was a door in front of which both of her parents paced.

And finally, she realized _why_ she was sitting in a chair… in a hall that smelled obscenely clean… in the St. Mungo's Emergency Ward.

'_Harry lives.'_

Ginny's heart flipped.** "HARRY!"** Violently tossing Ron aside, she jumped up and bolted toward the door. Her father, however, caught her in his arms before she could get to it. "NO! DAD, LET ME GO!"

"They're still working, Ginny! Calm down."

She squirmed and wriggled, but his hold on her did not relinquish. "No! I have to see her now! Daddy, please! Let me go. I-"

As if the universe had deigned to answer her desperate cries, the door beside them opened and three healers in green robes walked out, talking of impossibilities and miracles.

Ginny saw her. Harry's naked body was in a single solitary spotlight in what was otherwise a pitch black room. The old man from the house stood beside her bed. He gestured them in, pulling up the covers to hide all but the girl's head from view.

Her father carried her into the room and sat her on the edge of the bed.

Harry's skin was once again, flawless alabaster. Her weight was healthy, her arm whole, and her lips full. Her chest rose and fell softly. Her eyes fluttered beneath closed lids.

_She's… She's really alive. _

Ginny crawled forward to embrace the girl, but the old man held out his arm. "Not quite yet, my dear. Harry hasn't fully recovered. The magic is still clearing toxins from her body."

"Good lord, Albus," said her father in astonishment. "What happened to her? She wasn't breathing when we found her. Her heart had… had stopped. How on earth is she alive?"

The man, who she assumed was Albus Dumbledore, leaned back against the wall. He looked very old, very sad, and very… tired. "Alas, Arthur, I do not think I could bring myself to tell you the whole of it."

Ginny turned to fully gaze into his eyes and said quietly, "Tell me… _please._"

Dumbledore leveled her with an appraising stare and, after a moment's hesitation, nodded. "Harry was isolated from you since the beginning of the summer. Her owl was locked away, and, for unknown reasons, she did not receive any of the letters that were sent to her."

_Damn't, Errol! _

"Two weeks ago she was attacked by her cousin and his friends, one of whom broke her wrist. When he did so, her magic reacted most violently. When the news reached Petunia's and Vernon's ear, I'm afraid to say that they responded in kind, locking her in the cupboard for… fifteen days I believe. Thankfully, dehydration is not too painful. The brain releases a chemical that acts as a natural anesthetic. Harry's death was… quiet."

"HER _DEATH?_" cried Ron. "But… But… She's…" He trailed off gesturing towards Harry.

The man nodded and smiled. "Yes… quite… and thank Merlin for that. Harry's death was in body only. We easily restored the physical damage. I cannot say for sure how she managed to save her mind. I do not believe she knows… or if she was even responsible for it. While her veins and heart dried out, her brain ran on magic; her _soul _ran on magic; she _existed_ only in magic. I could go into a very long, wheezing explanation about magic augmentation, mind magics, and willpower, but I think it is easier to simply say that Harry here has a very strong will to live and too strong a connection to this world to let it go so easily. In short, she was either saved… or she saved herself."

Dumbledore reached out a hand to pull the covers up to Harry's chin, whispering softly to her, "Indeed… you are quite the most remarkable young woman I've ever had the chance to meet. I promised I would keep a closer watch on you, Harry, and I'm afraid I have already utterly failed in that regard. I hope, one day, you will forgive me for causing you such a truly unhappy birthday."

"I'm sure she already does," said Ginny, smiling softly at Harry.

Dumbledore straightened and gave her that same appraising look. "Thank you, Miss Weasley. That is most interesting of you to say."

Ginny didn't quite know what that meant, but she wrote it off.

_He is getting on a bit, after all. _

Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "Very well. The Dursley family and I are long overdue to sit down for some tea and have a nice long chat. I will return in the morning, but for now, I leave Harry in the very capable hands of friends." He walked around the bed and placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "Miss Weasley, it is vital that she not be touched for several more hours until the magic repairs her kidneys and liver. Can I trust you to not act rashly?"

Ginny nodded rapidly. "Yes sir."

"Then I bid you all a warm farewell. Arthur, walk with me if you would." Dumbledore and her father left the room swiftly.

Ginny sat down in the closest chair next to Harry's bed, whilst Ron sat in the next.

Her mother sighed heavily. "Don't get too comfy. We need to head home soon. It's quite late."

"I'm staying!" said both Ginny and Ron simultaneously.

Mum scoffed. "You most certainly are not! Come alo-"

Ginny cut in. "Mum, you are either going to let me stay, or stun me and take me home over your shoulder. I'm… I'm not leaving. No punishment on earth will change my mind."

Ron nodded his agreement.

Mum spluttered a bit and gave her the oddest look. "Oh… oh alright. Your father was going to stay anyway." She sighed and left the room as well.

Ron took Ginny's hand in his, squeezing tightly. He gave a great yawn and lay back to close his eyes.

Ginny, feeling her own exhaustion creep up on her, put her head down upon his shoulder to try and get some rest.

But… the hours passed slowly for her. Trying to sleep was useless, seeing as every fifteen minutes Harry would make little mewling noises that had Ginny up and at her bedside in a flash. Sleeping in the chair wasn't very comfortable and Ron's snores didn't help matters either. She wanted nothing more than to get up on that bed with Harry… but she wouldn't; she promised.

CRACK

_I was so close to sleep_!

It took a moment for her eyes to readjust to the light. When they did, however, she was met by a very strange sight. On Harry's bed, not two feet from Ginny's head… was a house-elf. It had large green eyes the size of tennis balls, was dressed in what had to be a pillowcase, and it was reaching out a finger… to touch Harry.

"No! Get away," she whispered heatedly, diving for the little creature. The elf's hand was not but an inch from Harry's face when there was an almighty shriek.

Ginny froze.

_I know that voice…_

Harry's deep, emerald-green eyes, bright and fully alive, were open wide, staring right at her as she dangled the elf by a leg. Her friend reached up and brushed the palm of her hand against Ginny's cheek.

"Gin?" Harry asked weakly.

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"Leave me alone, Dudley."

"I shan't until you clean my room."

"I mean it."

"Oooo you mean it, do you? What are you going to do if I don't?"

"Higgery Piggery Porkery _Pop!_"

"YOU CAN'T! DAD SAID-"

"FIGGERY BIGGERY DORKERY _SLOP!_"

"MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMM!"

Harry watched with satisfaction as her cousin run back down the path, his meaty hands covering his bottom.

"_It'ss pleassant outsside today."_

Harry snorted. The month of July had decided to be extremely ill-tempered this year, and thus… it was hot. It was, in fact, _disgustingly_ hot. Little Whinging looked like a shimmering mirage in the haze of refracted light through hot air. Harry trooped morosely down the well-trod dirt path, bangs sticking to her face, her chest almost visible through her dress from sweat.

_I need to buy some clothes. One white dress for the rest of my life just isn't going to cut it. Especially if there's another summer like this one._

Harry held out a hand, letting it brush through the tops of the tall wild orchids that ran along either side of the path.

Thankfully, Privet Drive's playground was abandoned. Harry walked over to her favorite swing and plopped down, clutching the hot sun-baked chains tightly for support. The little quill on her wrist brushed through her hair as it spun to face east.

_Four weeks… _

Harry dragged her foot through the dirt as the swing rocked her gently back and forth.

_Four bloody weeks and not a single letter from anyone. Maybe she's not… maybe they're not writing, because I'm not either. _

Uncle Vernon had padlocked Circe into her cage the second they had arrived home. After she had retrieved her clothing, he had then locked away her trunk, books, wand, and broomstick into the cupboard. A few days later, Harry had used one of her rare 'use Aunt Petunia's bath' opportunities to deftly pick the lock with a bobby pin. She had retrieved Alice, her wand, and a few important books she'd need for her summer homework.

_Or maybe Errol is sick… or- or maybe they ran out of ink! __Yeah…_

"Why doesn't she write to me, Alice? Why don't Ron and Hermione?"

Alice slid out of the dress pocket that Hermione had expanded for her on the inside. Harry was so glad that she had given the girl The Standard Book of Spell's grades two and three for Christmas.

_I should start reading ahead too. He… he was just playing with me. _

Harry let the snake curl onto her fingers.

"_Perhapss they have gone to Brazil."_

"Yeah… perhaps," she said, rubbing Alice's chin. The little reptile hummed lazily as it coiled about her hands and Harry couldn't stop from smiling. "Do you miss him then?"

'_Miss.' Yet another word to be added to the list. _

Despite the English word, Alice seemed to understand and hissed, _"I often wissh he wass pressent, Chica. Alphonze wass my mate for sseveral birthing sseasonss. I had many eggss. He wass my ally. Yet, we do not mate for life and I have found a new ally to replace him; one who will not leave me behind."_

Alice's tongue darted out several times onto her thumb.

"Never." Harry raised Alice to her face, planting a soft little kiss on the top of her head.

"Wow, Potty. You _really_ are a freak, aren't you?" said a drawling malevolent voice from right behind her.

Harry jumped and whirled around, smoothly pulling out her wand with her right hand while Alice raised herself and hissed menacingly from her left.

The boy was leaning against one of the poles that held the swing-set.

_Draco… blue eyes… nastier smirk. I hate you._

She remembered the last comment he had made to her, which was, unsurprisingly, along similar lines.

"Go away, Piers."

He cracked his knuckles threateningly. "Now now, I just want to catch up with an old friend."

In an impressively accurate imitation of Draco, Harry drawled, "It's _so_ nice to see that you've learned how to bully without Malcolm and Dudley around."

Piers smirk vanished and Harry boldly continued. "You're such a coward. You used to be a good person, Piers. Now you're exactly like them, because you're scared they'll treat you like they used to. Tell me, as Dudley beat you senseless out behind the school that day, did he use the 'hand on your throat, fist to the gut,' or the 'sits on your chest and pummels your jaw?'"

Piers eyes widened for a split second before narrowing in anger. "Shut it, you stupid cunt. You don't know jack. Besides… they'll be along shortly. We've missed playing our favorite game." He laughed and pushed himself of the pole, sneering as he advanced on her.

_Quirrell swatted away her leg locker curse as if it were an annoying gnat. His face was curled in a twisted smile as he strode purposefully toward her._

She backpeddled quickly, an explosion curse on the tip of her lips. "Get away from me! Now!"

Piers' sneer became feral. "Or _what?_ You'll poke me with a stick? You'll sick your tiny snake on me? I could rip it in half. Would you enjoy that, Potty?"

_Leaning against a pillar, Quirrell twirled his wand lazily between his fingers and asked breathily, 'Did you enjoy that, Potter? I did.'_

Harry growled in a deadly voice; a voice dripping with all the malice she felt for Quirrell and Voldemort. "Get the bloody hell away from me, Piers."

Great gusts of wind swirled past them.

Piers laughed coldly and his blue eyes blazed with rage. "Oooo I see. Harry's a Potty-mouth now. How _fitting."_

Harry frowned. The boy was angry… _too angry. _He had the same look on his face now as he did when she rejected his invitation last summer.

_Furious... and hurt._

Harry almost laughed… almost. "So that's what this is about? You stupid berk! Maybe if you had been nice to me more than twice in six years, I would have said yes!"

Peirs reeled back as if he'd been slapped. Harry would've ranted more, had Dudley and Malcolm not just appeared over the ridge behind them. Stuffing Alice and her wand hastily into her pocket, she turned and ran as fast as she could back down the dirt path.

Malcolm's slow, breaking voice cried out, "GET HER!"

Harry bolted down the road as fast as her worn-out patent shoes could carry her, looking for anything that she could use to escape. She was almost back to Privet Drive, when a hand latched onto her wind-tossed hair and pulled sharply backward.

_Quirrell grabbed her hair and wrenched upward. 'Potter, tell the truth, what did you see?'_

Harry cried out as she was wrenched down to the ground. Someone kicked her hard in the stomach.

S_pidery hands pinched her body, roughly grabbing at her knickers. Invasive fingers pushed at her folds_.

Sobbing, she grabbed frantically at the hands that held her hair.

"You deserve it," whispered Piers hotly, throwing her down to the ground and stomping on her chest.

_No I- I don't! _

Harry's core was pulsing; her skin was burning. She curled into a ball to avoid more blows, pleading with him. "STOP IT. PIERS, PLE-

"Freak!" His foot collided with her hand… and it snapped backwards unnaturally.

Her magic exploded with her scream.

Three loud squeals echoed out from around her. There was a bang of something hitting metal trashcans, a jangling of a wire fence, a dull thud... and then silence.

Crying steadily from the pain of her broken wrist, Harry opened her eyes. The three boys were all groaning in pain twenty feet away; Piers by the trashcans, Dudley by the fence, and Malcolm face down in the dirt.

Cradling her wrist, Harry got up and ran before they regained their bearings. She sprinted the half-mile back to Number Four, threw open the door, and darted up to her room. Panting heavily, she pulled out Alice and her wand. "You okay?" she whispered.

"_A little bruissed… but I will live." _Alice darted her tongue out against Harry's rapidly swelling wrist and oddly bent hand. "_What of you?" _

Wiping her eyes with her good arm, she hissed back softly, "Don't talk about it. I'm... I'm trying to ignore it." She wrenched open the loose floorboard under her bed. "You need to hide. I don't know if Dudley saw you or not."

Mere seconds after she had replaced the floorboard over-top Alice and her wand, Uncle Vernon burst into the room with a mad gleam in his eye. He thrust an open letter into her hands and said harshly, "Read it."

_Dear Miss Potter,_

_We have received intelligence that you used a powerful wandless knockback jinx outside your place of residence this evening at fifteen minutes past seven. Given your age and its magnitude, we have concluded that it was accidental. A magic reversal squad will arrive shortly to remove the memories of two Muggle witnesses, not including your cousin as his direct relation to you and previous knowledge of magic, exempts him from the process. _

_As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, but as this incident was accidental, we ask you only to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community is a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy._

_We also ask you to remember that directly performing spells outside of school, may lead to expulsion. (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C)_

_Enjoy your holidays!_

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_-IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE-_

_-Ministry of Magic-_

Harry looked up from the letter, trembling at the sight of glee on her uncle's face.

"You didn't tell us you weren't allowed to use magic outside school," he said fiercely. "Forgot to mention it… Slipped your-"

"**DAD! DAD! HARRY USED MAGIC ON ME!"**

She heard Dudley's pounding feet racing up the stairs, quicker than she ever thought he could move. He rushed into the room, wheezing, his blubber shaking and heaving. "DAD! SHE BLEW ME BACKWARD, I SWEAR!"

Uncle Vernon's large sausage fingers clamped down around Harry's neck. His face was turning a bright shade of purple. _"You… magiced… my… Dudley?" _Despite his rage, his voice was very quiet, which made Harry absolutely terrified.

"You saw the letter, Uncle Vernon! I'm sorry! They broke my wrist! It was an acci-grch."

Uncle Vernon's hand cut off her windpipe as he picked her up by the throat and dragged her out of the room, down the stairs, and past a worried looking Aunt Petunia.

_Not worried for me of course_.

Her uncle wrenched open the cupboard door and threw her roughly inside. Her head slammed into a familiar foe… C_oat Rail._

The door was closed behind her; the key turned in the lock.

_Locked in the cupboard. That's not half as bad as I was expecting._

The first day without food or water or the ability to go to the bathroom wasn't too bad. She had opened her trunk and dug around for the left over gift candy that she, Ron, Hermione, and Neville had not been able to consume on the train. The second day wasn't too bad either, but she needed water. On the third day she had screamed; banged; yelled. On the fourth day she had knocked; pleaded; cried tears of salt; called out to God, Merlin, and whatever else was out there. On the fifth day, Harry realized that they weren't going to let her out.

_Harry in the cupboard. Out of sight and out of mind._

She would never see her friends again. She would never see Ginny again. She tried to use her magic to open the door, but she was too weak, too hungry, and too thirsty to do anything more than make it rattle. On the sixth day, Harry lost control of her muscles, including those around her bowels. And on the seventh day… she lost track of time.

…

…

…

…

…

…

Harry stood on white shores. Wind blew, the moon shone, the sun rose, and the stars twinkled. The beach was calm… it was infinite… it was the entire world forever and ever. Crystal pink water swirled at her feet; water that called to her… pulled her down into the sand and foam. A thousand-thousand voices whispered in listlessness. She couldn't think, she couldn't move, she couldn't breathe; she just… _was._ She spent her milliseconds and splitseconds and seconds and minutes and hours and days and years and eternities… looking at a small light on her arm. It consumed her; she existed in it; she danced in its warmth with wild abandon.

_It's… squiggle. It's so… so… so… so… squiggle. It's so…_

_so…_

_so…_

_so…_

_squiggle…_

…

…

…

…_chime…_

…

…

…

"Yes… May I help you, young lady?"

"Oh, yes, Hello. My name is Ginny Weasley."

…_quill…_

"Very nice to meet you."

"Oh yes. Thank you. You as well. Well, you see today is Harry's Birthday and we've come to pick her up. She hasn't been returning our letters and I've been … we've been very worried."

"There… There isn't a Harry Potter in this house! Good day to you."

"You're lying! We saw you pick her up at the train station! I know she's here. I always know where she is! And I… I never said Potter! What have you done to her! Harry?"

"I SAID GOOD DAY."

"NO! DAD!"

…

…

…

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?"

"Ron, check upstairs."

..._grass..._

"Harry! Where are you?"

"Where's Harry? What have you done with her?"

"SHE'S NOT HERE! SHE RAN OFF."

"DAD! FOUND HARRY'S OWL! IT'S LOCKED UP!"

"Locked up?"

"I DEMAND THAT YOU-"

"Stupefy!"

"Dad! Look… She's in the cupboard!

"Alohomora."

"_Sweet Merlin! _Wait. Don't-"

"Oh my… _Harry?_ Harry… wake up. Oh Harry, talk to me… _please_… _HARRY?_! Daddy… she's not breathing! She's not… _N__o!"_

...

...

...

"YOU! YOU… KILLED…"

"Ginny, no!"

…_fruit…_

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

She stepped from the water onto a sandstone path. The stones wound through a mass of begonias and lilies to a little white door. The wood was cool against her hands. It opened slowly, releasing a pleasant, well-worn creak. She heard music playing inside; a light jazzy number with a bass line that seeped into her bones, creating an urge to tap her feet in time to the rhythm. It beckoned her forward, welcoming her into the small hallway with white shag carpet that tickled her bare feet. The hall led into a cozy living-room with blue walls, covered in paintings and moving picture frames. One such little frame beside her, showed… herself… taking her white dress from Aunt Marge. The eyes of her younger visage sparkled with delight as she ran her hands over the fabric.

She saw pictures all around the room that contained bits of her life. She saw herself sitting on the bench with Ginny at King's Cross for the first time; saw a picture of Ron with his arm around her; saw herself huddled next to Hermione as they shared a book. Her whole life sat before her.

Her whole life and… two people… two very familiar people. They were dancing and laughing in the center of the room, embracing tightly. She had thought on their faces often since that night with the Mirror of Erised. When the short redheaded woman spun to face her… a pair of familiar green eyes widened in shock. She patted the tall messy black-haired man excitedly on the back. "James! She's… she's here!"

"Who's here?" he asked in a rolling baritone.

"Harry, you silly prat!" She forcibly turned James around to face her.

A wide smile broke across his face and he beamed at her warmly. "Hullo, love."

Harry's sob caught in her throat as she squeaked out, "M-Mum? Dad?"

_Here they are… right in front of me… happy to see me. _

Her mum ran forward, kneeling down to pull her into her lap and squeeze her tight. "Oh my baby! I've missed you, darling! Look at you now! You're _so_ grown up."

Tears fell from Harry's eyes, partially from joy and partially from anguish. She was overwhelmed; her knees gave way and she collapsed against her mother's soft body. "H-How? Am I… dead?"

Her father said quietly, "I don't think so... you're just… Well, I think you're sitting on the line. Don't worry about it, love. We're together for now."

Harry nodded rapidly. "Together. We're… we're together now." She pulled back from her mother and reached out cautiously to touch her face. When her fingers reached her mother's skin, she pulled back as if electrocuted. The skin was solid; it was there.

_You couldn't truly touch in dreams could you? _

Her mother grabbed her hand tightly and held it to her lips.

_But… wait… this… this isn't… they're gone. _

"Oh Mum. Why did… why did you have to leave me behind?" Her mother's startlingly green eyes moistened and Harry rubbed her fists fiercely against her own. "Why didn't you just… We could have been together here… we could've been a… a family."

Shaking her head, her mother pulled Harry tight. "No, love, don't say that. I gave my life for you gladly. Being able to watch my little girl grow up, even if it's from here, is worth a thousand of my lifetimes. And… it was cruel what was done to us, but we're still a family, Harry, even though we're apart."

Harry pawed at her neck, sobbing into her mother's blouse. "But I- I miss you!"

Dad knelt down beside her, wrapping his arms around the both of them. His large hand cupped her cheek, thumb wiping away her tears. "Harriet… we're so sorry for all the pain you've been through; that we couldn't be there for you. It kills me… pun intended… that I couldn't take care of you; that I could only sit on the side line and watch."

Mum slapped him lightly on the arm in chastisement. "James, that one was _truly_ horrible."

Harry couldn't help but laugh amongst her violent sobs.

Mum leaned down to rub her nose on Harry's. "Oh, Harry... We love you so much. To see you here, it… it warms, yet breaks my heart. I'll _never_ forgive my sister."

Harry shook her head, tears and hair flying all over. "It… It doesn't matter. Mummy… Daddy… I can't believe…" She nuzzled her mother's neck. "I… I love you too!"

Dad stood and picked Harry up from her mother's embrace. He brushed Harry's hair back behind her ears and smiled at Mum. "You look just like your Mum when we met on the train; full of that same fire." Grinning, he searched her face wildly and said under his breath, "Merlin! You are a beautiful little bugger, aren't you? Certainly didn't get it from me. I hate that I won't be able to embarrass you in front of all your would-be suitors. Maybe Sirius will be up for the job, if he ever gets out of that hellhole." His fingers dug into the back of her knees. That was the end of her tears. She shrieked in laughter, squirming, and her father mercifully relented. "Ah yes… the Potter knees. Woe to you if anyone ever finds out about them."

"Ginny and Ron already torture me," she said breathlessly, raking a hand along his forehead and poking in certain places to make sure he was actually there.

_He is._

Harry grinned and took off her father's glasses, switching them for her own. Laughing to herself, she said quietly. "Wow, Dad! You're blinder than I am… _No wonder_ you were a Chaser."

Her mum snorted and her father's mouth went slack.

"OHO! Someone's britches are a bit big, aren't they? Not five minutes pass and you already think you're better at Quidditch then your dear ol' Dad. Young people these days. _Honestly_, what _is_ the world coming to?" He sighed overdramatically, grinned, and kissed her cheek. "There's no doubt about it, Lils. She's mine alright."

"No one else's." Mum said lovingly, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

Harry's heart lurched a little as her parents' lips touched. Their kiss looked gentle, well practiced, and passionate. It was beautiful… but she still felt slightly embarrassed to be witnessing them snogging.

_Now I know how Ginny feels when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley get into a moment._

She felt her cheeks heat up as their kiss became more intense. "Hey… quit."

They smiled against each other's mouths and pulled away. "Well, at least we get to embarrass you a little," said her father happily with an infectious grin. "So… Harry… how about a fly?"

Mum tutted him. "Really, James? However little time we have with her and you want to spend it flying?"

"I don't mind," said Harry enthusiastically.

Her father grinned even wider, looking triumphantly at Mum.

Her mother gave a little gesture of defeat, but smiled, leaning up to kiss Harry's nose. "Of course you don't. You're _definitely_ your father's daughter… Well, alright."

Dad whooped.

"But really… be quick about it, James. There are things that need to be said."

The sky and land stretched uninterrupted as far as the eye could see. Clouds drifted lazily, birds sang sweetly, and Harry flew circles around her father. When they were back on the ground, he picked her up and whirled her around, shouting excitedly, "MY DAUGHTER WILL PLAY FOR ENGLAND!"

As they marched back toward the house, Harry, piggybacking on her father's shoulders, felt happier than she had ever been in her whole life… yet also… just as sad. She whispered into his neck, "Dad… is this real?"

Her father sighed heavily and hitched her higher up onto his back. "Who's to say, Harriet? It's a question I've always pondered; one that I ask Lily constantly. I'd like to think the answer is yes. I'd like to think that you're my little girl. I'd like to think that the beautiful woman in that house is my Lils. But the truth is… I could be a figment of your imagination just as easily as you could be a figment of mine. For all I know, neither of you are really here."

She clutched at his collar. "No, Dad... I'm here! I promise!"

He had started to cry, just as she had. "That's the same thing your mother tells me. The same thing _my_ father and mother tell me when they come round. But it doesn't matter. All that really matters is that it's real to us; that we know in our hearts that we loved each other in life; that we still love each other and we feel that love in our bones. Who's to say that the love I feel for you right now… here in this place… is any less real than what I felt for you when we were alive. You know that we loved you; that we still love you, even though we're gone. You can feel it… can't you?"

She could. "I love you too, Daddy... and... and I think it's real. It has to be!"

Her father wiped his eyes with his shirt. "Me too, baby. Me too."

Her tears were heavy both on her eyes and on her heart. "I saw you in the Mirror… and you looked just the same as you do now… just the same as you did in the photo album that Hagrid gave me. How could you not be real? And Dad… you saw me in the cupboard, didn't you? And then… I came here! When… _if_ I wake up… I'll… I'll wave to you so… so next time… next time we see each other… we'll know this was real… that it's all real… won't we?"

They sank down to the ground just outside the little cabin. Her father swung her around to his front and hugged her tight. "I don't… I don't know, sweetheart. Who's to say?" His eyes were closed; a pained expression smeared across his handsome face.

He held her forehead to his own, soothing her and stroking her hair. It had the opposite of the desired effect. Harry's tears built into hysterical sobs. She needed to know this was real; that these were indeed her parents; parents that truly loved her. Pounding on his chest… his real… solid chest, she cried out, "BUT IT… IT HAS TO BE! I MISS YOU SO MUCH! I WANT YOU TO BE REAL! PLEASE!"

Another hand fell softly on her head. "Then it's real, Harry." Her mother had come out of the house. "Don't let your father get you down into one of his 'are we here, are we there' rants." She kissed Dad solidly again. "I do love you, Prongs… but you can be _so_ melodramatic sometimes. It must be a Potter thing." Her mother tweaked their noses and cupped her father's cheek. "Heaven, the afterlife, the great beyond… whatever this is… it wouldn't be so cruel as to keep me from you, James. Whatever this is, it wouldn't be so cruel as to force us to watch our daughter going through such terrible pain if it wasn't truly happening. It's absolutely real… as I tell you every time we make love." She smirked impishly. "And come on… doesn't _that_ seem pretty realistic?"

Harry's tears had trailed off as her mother's smooth voice calmed the both of them, but when those last words came, her eyes widened with shock. "Um Ewww? I'm sitting right here."

Her mother ran her hand down through Harry's hair. "No one but our daughter would say something like that to us, James. Not even a figment of your imagination."

They kissed once again and fell backwards, hands roaming all over. Dad ran his palm over Mum's breast and they both moaned heavily.

Scandalized, Harry squeaked nervously and covered her eyes.

"Love you," said her mother quietly.

"Love you too, Lils. I understand, but… like Harry, I just… I want this to be real. I can't bear the thought of not being with you."

"Then it's real. Harry, come here, baby." Harry uncovered her eyes and crawled to the spot where they had fallen in their passion. Mum took her arm and pulled her between them. "I love you both so much. You know it in your hearts and that's all that matters." She wrapped all of their hands together and held them tight. "Harry… I think your time here is almost up. So we need to talk. I have so much motherly advice I never got to give you. So... here goes… We'll always be with you, sweetie, and don't you ever doubt it. Be true to yourself. Be true to your friends." Her mother, grimacing slightly, said, "Don't take grief from anyone, Harry… unless you know you deserve it."

Her father cut in. "Don't settle for someone you don't love and don't let anyone stop you from pursuing someone that you do. Trust your friends… even… even if they're not trustworthy. Forgive their mistakes. Forgive their faults." Her parents shared an intense look that Harry didn't understand. "And Harry, listen to Sirius. His story needs to be told."

"Sirius… wait! Do you mean my Godfather? Mr. Weasley made it sound like… you know."

Her father nodded solemnly. "Technically, he's as good as. When the time comes… just listen. He loved you as we did. And… he could again."

Her mother hugged her tight. "Almost time. Work hard in school. Go easy on… Well, don't hold it against Severus. He's a troubled man. If you ever… if you ever have a chance, tell him that I forgive him. That girl, Ginny, be good to her. She depends on you so much, looking to you for strength when she can't find it within herself. Brush your teeth more often. I know you've been skipping in the morning, young lady. Those pearly whites won't last forever if you don't. Don't let Petunia push you around. She was always doing it to me. Oh and very importantly… string side down… you'll know what I mean. Anything else, James?"

"Lots more… but there isn't enough time in the world to get through it all. Let's see… Practice your Transfiguration. Make plenty of mischief. Get sloshed at least once while you're at school. Quidditch is always more important than schoolwork. Scrub behind your ears. Don't mix asphodel and powdered bat wing. Buy plenty of socks. That money in our vault will last lifetimes… so go crazy." He winked at her. "And… Well, be happy. There's always a brighter side of life, even when things are at their worst. Oh and Harry? Promise me that you won't underestimate Peter."

Harry felt very strange. It was as if she was in two places at once; as if she was teetering on a tightrope.

Mum grabbed her shoulders. "We love you, Harriet… forever and ever. If you meet Him again… tell him Lily and James Potter are waiting for him on the other side... and we're not happy."

She watched miserably as her parents started to fade. "No wait! Mum! Dad! I don't want to go yet!"

Her mum reached out to brush the hair out of Harry's face. "We'll… we'll see you again."

Her father wiggled her big toe with his fingers. "Proud of you, Prongslet."

Everything went fuzzy. The green specks that were her mother's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

Harry shrieked. A tiny little man with bulbous green eyes and bat-like ears was dangling upside down, right in front of her face. His feet were held by a hand; a freckled, pale hand. Her eyes followed the arm, up to the shoulder with a little yellow strap that held up a yellow sundress. Two amber, gold-flecked eyes gazed down at her in shock.

She raised an arm to touch the girl's soft cheek. "Gin?" Her voice was weak, like a croak, a moan, and a whisper all rolled into one.

"Harry!" Ginny dropped the creature onto the floor. There was a loud CRACK, but Harry only barely registered it as her best friend clambered up onto the bed. Harry suddenly found herself being thoroughly squeezed in the tightest hug the girl had ever given her. Ginny's hair tickled her nose and she could feel tears dripping onto her neck.

A terrible ache somewhere deep in her chest disappeared. "Hey Ginny. I missed you." Harry snaked her arms around Ginny's waist, sinking into the embrace, bathing in the warmth of her body and the scent of strawberries in her hair. This was the first friendly touch she had received since they last hugged at the station. And Ginny's… Well, Ginny's was the touch she desired to feel above all others. The redhead's body heaved against her own.

'_She depends on you so much.' _

Harry squeezed back reassuringly and whispered into her ear, "What's wrong, Gin? I've never… I've never seen you cry before."

Slowly, the girl on top of her pushed herself up, her nose dragging against Harry's cheek. Their faces were inches away and a little tear fell on Harry's lips.

Ginny brushed the tip of her nose on Harry's, just like… _just like Mum did._ "Harry… you were… _dead!_ We-We found you… and you…you were dead. I held you in my arms! I thought I'd never… oh Harry!" She crushed herself back down to give Harry a fierce hug.

Harry had died. She remembered dying. She remembered when her heart had slowed to a halt. She remembered when the veil fell away and the little coil of light had consumed her. She remembered the white shores and their cottage.

_It was real Dad… It had to be. _

Raising a hand from Ginny's back, Harry waved at the spotlight shining down at her.

_Till… till next time. _

Harry let the hand fall back into Ginny's hair and she whispered softly, "Yeah, but… I'm here now.

Ginny nodded into Harry's neck but couldn't stop crying. Like a yawn, her heaving sobs were contagious.

"Gin…" Harry moaned through her own tears. "Don't… don't cry. We're together again, yeah?" She turned her head and pressed her lips into the red hair. "I… I know though. I used to… I used to see you everyday when I was afraid of my wand and my magic. Whenever I cast spells, I would see you hurt… dead… and I was always the one holding the wand. So I know… you know?"

Cuddling into her, Ginny muttered something unintelligible, face pressed into the pillow. Harry pulled her over so she was lying directly on top of her body, once again face to face. "What?"

Ginny's eyes were puffy and red. Her bottom lip trembled with shuddering breaths. When she spoke, her words were interspersed with little hiccupping sobs. "I… love… you… Harry. Don't… you ever… die… again."

Although it was spoken platonically, Harry's stomach still did flips. Her heart still raced. No one had ever said those three words to her. Not once in her life.

_Except… except Mum and Dad… It was real. It was real. It was real. It had to be. _

Ginny's breath fell heavily on her cheek. Harry found her hand and entwined their fingers. "Gin, I… I love you too… and I'll try not to die again. I promise. I could come haunt you as a ghost, if I do though."

Ginny sat up, the corners of her mouth twitching upward.

_That's better._

The redhead wiped her eyes and shoved Harry in the shoulder. "You'd better," she demanded in a half-laugh half-sob, her breasts jiggling lightly as she…

_J__iggling?_

"Oi! What's with these?" Harry poked her in her chest and Ginny giggled, slapping her hand away. "You're bubbies are bigger than mine! That's not fair! I'm older!"

Ginny slid off of her waist and lay down next to her, placing her freckled chin on Harry's shoulder. "It's not my fault. You've seen Mum... blame her. Besides, you're only three months older than me!"

Harry grumbled and raised the cover to observe her still relatively flat chest. "Still."

Ginny peeked in and said, "hmmm, yours are better shaped. Mine are bigger, but they go all pointy."

Harry snorted.

Ginny smacked her arm. "Don't make fun! It's… it's been terrible actually. Mum's noticed and I just about died when she asked me if I 'have any hair down there?' I… well I do… and now I have to go with Mum to The Witching Hour in Diagon Alley. I hate that place. Everything is violently pink and smells like it's been soaked in perfume."

"Thought you liked pink?"

Ginny gestured wildly and said, "You don't understand… _violently pink!_" She grinned slyly. "Mum will probably drag you into the shop too."

Harry would have replied, but just at that moment, a tremendous snore from the corner of the room made her jump and she pulled the covers up higher.

Ginny patted her arm. "It's just Ron getting his beauty sleep."

Harry laughed; _really _laughed. She hadn't laughed all summer. Turning to face her, she scooted into the redhead's body. "I missed this… I missed you."

Ginny smiled and closed her eyes, placing an arm around her. "Mmm… missed you too. I'm going to fall asleep now, okay?"

"Okay," said Harry, moving over so the other girl could get on the pillow. She wasn't tired at all as she had just woken from the last and best sleep a person is ever supposed to have, but she lay quietly all the same, letting Ginny's last words bounce about her head.

_She says that… but she didn't… she never wrote._

After a few minutes of silence Harry had to ask. "Gin?"

Ginny breathed into her neck, "mmmmmquaffle."

Harry giggled and placed a hand on the redhead's shoulder, shaking lightly. "Gin?"

Ginny moaned and placed a finger to Harry's lips, shushing her sleepily.

Grinning, Harry nipped it with her teeth.

Ginny smirked into the pillow and cracked open an eyelid. "Whaaaat?"

Harry didn't really know how to ask the question without being blunt. She looped a finger into Ginny's hair, twiddling it between her thumb and forefinger. "Well, I… I couldn't write to you because the Dursley's locked Circe up, but why… why didn't you write to me?"

As soon as she said it, before Ginny could answer, there was another loud CRACK; one Harry could not ignore. At the foot of the bed stood the ugly green-eyed creature that had been dangling in front of her face just minutes ago.

Harry and Ginny sat up, staring in shock.

Its batlike ears were turned downward and its huge bulbous green eyes were filled with… _shame? _Nervously shuffling its feet, it stuttered in a ridiculously high-pitched voice, "Harry Potter and her Wheezey witch mustn't be angry… Dobby hoped… if Harry Potter had thought her friends had forgotten her… Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, miss." The little thing brought out from behind its pillowcase shirt, a large thick stack of letters.

Harry gasped. She could see about fifteen envelopes that read **'Harry,' **in Ginny's choppy script, as well as a few in Hermione's, Ron's, Neville's, and Hagrid's.

Ginny growled at the creature. "You stopped our letters!"

The creature… Dobby… as it had called itself, nodded its head apologetically, great ears flapping like windsocks in a hurricane. "Dobby had to, Miss… Dobby must not let Harry Potter go back to Hogwarts this year. It isn't safe."

Ginny's voice crackled with ferocity. "You… you've been stopping them all summer, though!"

Dobby nodded his head even harder, bursting into tears as he did so. "Dobby thought… Dobby thought it would make Harry Potter safe."

Before Harry could stop her, Ginny lunged at Dobby.

He vanished with a crack and reappeared on the nightstand next to the bed.

"No, not the Marshmallows, Mum!" shouted Ron. "It's Devil's..." ***SNORE***

Harry added that to her mental list of things that she could tease Ron about and caught Ginny as she lunged for Dobby once more. "Gin, stop!"

Ginny's amber eyes were wild and enraged, flooding with tears.

Harry pulled her down into her lap, holding tight as her friend struggled to get at the little creature. "It's just a couple of letters."

Ginny's fingernails clutched at her bare back. "No, but… Harry! That means he _knew_ you were in the cupboard! He's a house-elf! He could have unlocked that door with a snap of his fingers!"

Harry leaned back, shocked, and the sheet fell off her. She scambled for it. Had it just been Ginny in the room she wouldn't have bothered… but this little elf-thing unnerved her tremendously. She glared at Dobby and asked, "Is… is that true?"

The elf nodded.

"Then give me a good reason why I shouldn't let her at you?"

"Dobby did it to protect you, miss!" squeaked the elf frantically.

"Protect her?" snarled Ginny. "She died! She literally _died_! If that's your definition of protection I'd prefer it if you piss off! Whose elf are you anyway?"

The elf's eyes widened with fear. "I… I cannot say, Harry Potter's Wheezey."

Harry sighed and held out her hand. "Dobby… why don't you give me my letters… sit down… explain what you're on about, and answer Ginny's question... or I won't listen to a thing you have to say."

The elf, once again, burst into tears. "Sit… _sit down? _Never has Dobby been asked to sit down by a witch! Like an equal!" Dobby wailed at the top of his lungs and fell over onto the nightstand, hugging a small potion bottle to his chest.

_How is Ron still asleep? _

"Oh, honestly…" she said, reaching out to gingerly pick up the elf. She plopped him down on the bed and took her letters. Even though Ginny was right here, sitting between her legs, Harry desperately wanted to tear them open, just so she could silence that tiny voice in her head that was questioning whether or not she still had friends.

"Now," Harry said calmly. "Answer Ginny's question. Whose elf are you... and why are you trying to stop me from going to Hogwarts?"

The house-elf stopped its sobbing and gripped the potion bottle tightly. "Dobby is… Dobby belongs to the… to the bad… they- they hits… Dobby will be punished!" It whimpered, flipped the bottle upside down, and started to beat itself about the head with the glass. "_Bad _Dobby!_ Bad _Dobby!"

"What are you doing?" Harry cried, wrenching the bottle out of its hands.

Ginny answered while Dobby flopped about in the sheet, twisting his ears violently. "House Elves are… Well, they're bred to be obedient slaves, Harry. I haven't seen many, but I know that they're never supposed to speak ill of the family they serve. And they… they punish themselves if they do… _really_ violently. Our Aunty Muriel had an elf that committed suicide just because it told one of her neighbors that she had a horrible singing voice… and she does, mind you. The fact that this one is even trying to tell us is… odd."

Harry's anger and disdain for the little thing vanished instantly. "That's… that's barbaric," she whispered, watching the elf squirm.

Ginny nodded into her neck. "Yeah. Muriel tried to give us an elf, but Mum shouted her down. She refuses to have one in the house."

Harry placed a reassuring hand on the elf's shoulder and it stopped thrashing. "It's alright Dobby… you don't have to tell us."

Dobby's eyes widened. "Harry Potter touches Dobby… _in kindness._ Never has any wizard or witch done so! So good is Harry Potter… so great… so noble…"

He pawed at her leg with his tiny hands and she was reminded of what Mrs. Figg's cats would do to the upholstery.

_Never been touched with kindness… I… I remember that._

"Why don't you run away, Dobby? If you're concerned about my safety, you could… Well, you could stay with me and keep me safe. I won't hit you."

Harry wished she hadn't said it.

The elf went bonkers. It sobbed. It wailed. It punched itself. It bemoaned her kindness. "Harry Potter is a great witch… far too good to-"

"Dobby!" Harry held the elf down to the sheets. "Calm down!"

His little heartbeat slowed beneath her fingers and she let him up. He shook his head and said sadly, "Dobby would like nothing less than to be Harry Potter's elf, miss. But a House elf must be set free. Dobby's family will never set Dobby free, Miss."

"Oh. Well…" Harry trailed off. She didn't know what she could say or what help she could offer without having the elf wail again. "Okay. Well, why… why is Hogwarts not safe?"

The elf looked around as if he thought others were listening in. Dobby stared at her with his tennis ball eyes and whispered, "_There is a plot, Harry Potter… a plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts." _

Harry laughed to herself.

_That's it?_

"A plot… what kind of plot?" asked Ginny. "Can you tell us what's happening?"

The elf began twisting its ears and moaning, but Harry pulled Dobby's hands away. "Dobby… why come to me? Why not go to Dumbledore?"

"Dobby cannot… Dobby cannot… Dobby cannot. It is… it is… Dobby must keep Harry Potter safe from the dark! She is too great to lose!"

Harry sighed heavily. "Dobby, if you won't tell me, I'm going to have to take my chances. I'd rather snog Voldemort than go back to the Dur... Dobby?"

The elf was vibrating, a bit like a ringing telephone still on the hook. "Dobby must leave, Harry Potter! Dobby's mistress calls." The elf got right up into her face. "Harry Potter will not go back to Hogwarts!"

CRACK

"They want me to tap-dance!" yelled Ron sleepily.

The elf vanished and Ron's snores resumed moments later.

"I'd like to see him stop me," said Harry. "He's not even a foot tall."

Ginny clutched her arm. "Don't say that, Harry. House-elves are… Well, there was a reason wizards enslaved them in the first place. They're… they're _really_ powerful. All the old horror stories about Leprechauns and Gremlins… they're all really about malicious House-elves."

"What old horror stories?"

Ginny scratched her head. "Well… I don't know any… but still." Harry laughed and lay back into the pillows, pulling the covers up to her chin. Ginny scooted off her lap and they resumed their former position. "If you have to stay home from Hogwarts," said Ginny quietly, twirling some of Harry's hair around her index finger, "then I'll stay too."

"You don't have to-"

"I want to." Ginny took her hand, sliding up the pillow so they were at eye-level. "I lost you… and… it hurt so bad, Harry. When I saw your body it was… I can't even…"

Ginny's eyes were filled with anguish and she traced a hand down Harry's jaw line. Harry's brain was flooded with the scent of strawberry. They had cuddled, snuggled, kissed, and hugged… yet this one little touch was... Harry didn't know what it was.

_It felt so… squiggle._

"Gin?" asked Harry softly. "What's… what's wrong?"

Breathing deeply, Ginny closed her eyes and said, "I see your eyes now and all I can think about is how they looked when you were dead. I touch you and all I can remember is how it felt to touch the bloodied cracks in your skin. I feel your hair and all I can picture is how dry and brittle it was. Harry, you're my… I don't even know what you are anymore… but I lost you… and I can't do it again. Even now, with you right here beside me, I'm upset and… and angry… _really_ angry… I've never felt like this. If Dumbledore hadn't stopped me, I... I probably would've killed your Aunt."

Harry grabbed her arms, pulling her closer. She rubbed her nose on Ginny's and smiled. "Wish you had finished the job and saved me the trouble."

Choking on a laugh, Ginny wiped at her eyes. When her freckled hand fell away, Harry reeled back. She was suddenly miles away, at the Burrow, hesitating to put her ornament on the Christmas tree. Ginny's amber gaze had been hard, stubborn, serious, affectionate, heartbroken, angry, ecstatic, and determined… all at once; it blazed with fire and emotion and recklessness; it was the look she couldn't define; it was the look that embodied Ginny; it was the look that was boring into her at this very moment.

"How do you do that?" asked Harry. "Make your eyes go all…" She made a complicated gesture with her hands.

"Eyes go all what?" Ginny asked in mock offense, poking Harry in the belly.

Harry put her hands to her face and tried to force her brow to imitate it. "I can't explain it. It's pretty… yet intimidating… yet kind. It drives me mad. I tried to do it in the mirror over the summer and I just ended up crossing my eyes."

Ginny giggled and shrugged. "I was actually just thinking about when we ran through the barrier last year; no specific look intended. Remember?"

The hourglass flipped of its own accord. Harry turned her face into the pillow, nodding, cheeks flushing. "Yeah."

_I think about it every night… and you're going to hate me when you… Well, this is a problem for future-me. Future-me can handle it. _

Ginny's slow heartbeat hammered in her ears; her pulse was thudding against her hand; her breath was a heavy wind on her neck. Strawberries exploded in her mouth.

Ginny twiddled with Harry's hair and when she spoke, Harry could pick out every note in her voice; heard the waves of sound entwining together to create her lilting smooth alto. "That was a good day. You know… I'm _glad_ Ron was being a prat or I wouldn't have come over to that bench I bet."

Harry didn't really want to think about that. She closed her eyes as Ginny ran her thumb over her knuckles. When her ministrations ceased, Harry opened her eyes, thinking Ginny had maybe fallen asleep.

She had not.

"Harry," Ginny said in a tiny voice, "what was… what was it like?"

Harry knew from her tone what she had meant. Entwining their fingers, she said in what she thought was a reassuring voice, "It wasn't bad. Painless. Quiet even. I just sort of… slipped away."

Ginny scrounged up her eyes and squeezed her hand.

"Honest, Gin. Everything just… fell away. Like going to sleep. I saw a beach; this impossibly beautiful beach. And I… I saw my parents."

Ginny's eyes snapped open. "_You what?"_

Harry quickly continued, not wanting her to think she was crazy. "Or… I think I did. It was… it was so _real,_ Gin. I… I flew with my dad. My mum she's… she's wonderful. I don't know if it was possible… but I hope it was real. I hope that they… that they really love me as much as they said. I hope they're watching. It's… it's nice… knowing you have a family that's-"

"You do have a family," Ginny said fiercely.

Harry thought it might have just slipped out of the redhead's mouth, but Ginny repeated herself purposefully, her eyes once again smoldering. "I'm your family, Harry. You're… you're a Weasley! You were almost a Weasley officially Dad said. Just like the rest of the world, they offered to adopt you… but Dumbledore…"

"Said that I have to be a Dursley…" Harry muttered dejectedly, "That I'll have to be a Dursley for another five years."

Ginny gaped at her. "He won't send you back! He wouldn't… not after-"

"Yes he will… I know he will."

Ginny pressed her stomach into Harry's and held her tight. "I won't let him! I won't let you!"

Harry knew it was pointless to argue. Dumbledore would send her back, and there was nothing she or Ginny could do about it. She nosed Ginny's cheek as affectionately as she could. "Thanks, Gin."

Ginny made a little satisfied grunting noise. She pushed on Harry to roll her over onto her side and slid up behind her. Her bum slid back into Ginny's waist. They fit together like spoons stacked in a drawer. While Harry liked this, she was somewhat dismayed at what it meant. "You bint! You're taller than me too!"

Ginny swatted Harry's hip. "Only because I get to eat properly, while you've been eating crackers and toast for three meals a day. A month at home and you'll be taller than Ron.

_At home… oh Gin..._

Harry grabbed her arm and pulled it around her. "Ginny… about last year…"

Ginny sighed and squeezed her hand. "I don't want to hear about it right now, Harry. We're already over the limit on the 'bad things that have happened to Harry,' scale. I know it's bad too. Every time I managed to get Ron to talk about it, his eyes would go all cold and he'd make bad jokes."

"It… Well, yeah… it's bad."

Ginny buried her face into Harry's hair. "Then tell me later. Let's just…" she yawned widely in the middle of her sentence. "I need to sleep."

"Tansy cakes," Ron sighed happily from his corner.

Ginny sat bolt upright, nearly dislodging Harry from the bed. She was grinning. "I forgot! Be right back." Without so much as another word, she ran from the room.

Harry was left puzzled and slightly chilly without Ginny's warm body to hold on to.

When Ginny returned to the room, she was holding in her hands… a chocolate cupcake.

Harry laughed. "You needed a snack at four in the morning?"

"It's not for me you silly twonk... although, I wouldn't mind a bite." Ginny got back up on the bed and promptly sat on her. "It's for you! Happy Birthday… we'll have your real cake at the Burrow when you get out here of course."

Harry sat up, sheet falling to her waist, and rolled Ginny off her stomach. "It's… it's my birthday? I was in there for-"

"Half a month," said Ginny morosely, but a bright smile returned to her face just as quickly as her frown had formed. she shoved the treat into Harry's hands. "Now… eat your stale cupcake."

Harry bit down. It was indeed stale... and rather disgusting. Harry handed it to Ginny, smirking as the girl took a rather large bite.

Harry giggled when Ginny's face fell in a disgusted expression. "Blegh! Harry! You could've warned me!"

"How would that be any fun for me?" Harry asked coquettishly as Ginny tossed the cake into the bedside bin.

Ginny pounced on her, growling playfully. "Commencing knee tickling in five seconds… five… four… three…"

Harry squealed and pulled the covers up over her head, curling into a ball to protect herself. But the tickles never came. Harry peeked out over the top of the sheet. Ginny was just sitting there, smiling at her. "What?" Harry asked, grabbing her arm and pulling her back down to the pillow.

Ginny shrugged. "Nothing. I'm… happy."

"Me too."

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Albus sipped his tea as the three Dursleys moaned and twitched on the couch in front of him, reliving all of Harry's most terrible memories in vibrant detail.

Never in his one hundred and ten years had he used Legilimency to _educate_ someone. Until now, that is. In this case, however, he thought it was warranted. In the words of his father, before he was sentenced to Azkaban, 'It was a necessary evil.' Yes... It was a necessary evil to break through their bigotry; to make sure that the repugnant deed committed in this house would never be repeated.

He had ripped into each of their minds, finding the truths of their hate for the girl. In Petunia, it was the jealousy she felt for her sister. Burning deep down, repressed by a lifetime of ordinary, was a deep-seeded need to be extraordinary. Of the three, hers was by far the most petty.

In Vernon, it was fear… and shame. Vernon's father was an abusive drunk and a petty criminal. His continuous stints in prison were always the talk of the town and his family was ridiculed endlessly. Vernon, shamed by his father, committed himself to being a perfect member of society, shunning anything that would make himself standout. Thus his fear of magic. Albus thought it was somewhat ironic that this fear had twisted Vernon Dursley into an even more dishonorable and out-of-the-ordinary man than his father.

The son was not to blame. There was no true hate towards the girl. His actions were driven only by his bullying nature, the ideals he had learnt from his parents, and the inability to determine right from wrong that so often accompanied youth. Now was as good a time as any to teach this boy the repercussions of his actions.

Despite his drive to right a wrong, he had still felt dirty tearing apart their minds. He was dancing upon the line between projection and possession.

After making them relive each of the ten horrible days Harry had survived in the cupboard without water, he relented his grip. They slumped back, panting.

"Now then, I believe we have an understanding?"

The Dursley family nodded and Albus waved his wand, sending all of Harry's belongings to the Burrow. He stood and just for dramatic emphasis, made the house rumble with thunder as he disapparated.

Upon his return to the Emergency ward of St Mungo's, Albus sighed with content. To see its halls so quiet soothed him. The ward had seen such hubbub in the last war, as Tom had been particularly vicious in his attacks towards its end.

He passed Arthur who was sleeping in a chair out in the hall, doing exactly as Albus had asked him to do. Despite his rather mischievous Hogwarts career, much like his twin sons, Arthur was a good man; a man he had made Head Boy. Albus had been pressuring the Ministry for months to start a support program for those like Arthur's children: powerful young magic-users that couldn't afford the necessities that would allow them to become confident witches and wizards.

He knew that the youngest son, Ronald, was using a hand-me-down wand. The boy would never reach his potential, nor achieve satisfactory grades with a wand that had not chosen him or that he had not won. When Ronald had saved Harriet on the train, the boy had shown his family's _true_ worth; worth that could no longer go unnoticed by the world. And thus the scholarship program; it would donate just enough to cover the essentials like wands and books, without hurting Arthur's pride.

He took down the ward Arthur had put up over Harry's door and swept inside. The sight that met his eyes was startling, yet not altogether unexpected. The two girls were embracing, spooned together snuggly and fast asleep. The sheet covering Harry from view had fallen away. She was as naked as the day she was born. The Weasley girl, Ginevra, had thrown a leg over Harry's hip and her hand was firmly planted on one of Harry's breasts. The black-haired girl was panting in her sleep.

Albus himself had never been able to experience the effect of his augmented magic in the presence of the person that he used as his leverage for the hourglass. And yet… perhaps that was a good thing. It would have been most unsettling to become aroused when he thought of Ariana and the smell of her daisies; of the little flower chains she would make and place on his head. Even though the arousal was a simple reaction to one's augmented magic, it would have been disturbing all the same.

But the embrace these children shared… it was most assuredly from _real_ love. It was a feeling he missed dearly and was truly a beautiful thing to behold.

Wondering just how long it would take the girls to realize their passions, he tapped on a portrait hanging from the wall next to him. "What do you think, Phineas? Two years? Three?"

Phineas Nigellus groaned. "From the way they were touching and gibbering on about feelings… I'd give it a year."

Harry let out a rather intense culminating groan that made even Albus, old and withered as he was, blush ever so slightly.

_Ah to be young. Although… a bit too young in this case. I suspect Molly would be a mite startled if she were to witness such a scene._

Albus flicked his wand and the girls separated inch-by-inch, sheets rising to once again cover Harry's body. They both clutched at the other as they drifted further apart. He was satisfied when only their hands were touching, but as soon as he released his spell, they turned toward each other and slowly inched back together.

Instead of fighting what he knew would be a losing battle, Albus conjured some basic clothes onto Harry's body and let the girls resume their embrace. The clothes would last a few days before vanishing. He would have to remember to remind Harry of this so as to prevent any surprising and inopportune moments of nakedness.

As Harry's panting began anew, Albus thought back on the shocking truth he had learnt this morning.

_A parseltongue. I wonder why she closed that particular door to me. It's disturbing surely… but not shameful. I want her to know that. _

But the talk he needed to have with Harry could wait. It was far too early to wake them; they seemed so at peace. Albus remembered what it was like to be so uninhibited by love. It was such a powerful emotion. It could start wars and move mountains; could blacken stars and tempt fate; could blind truth from even _his_ eyes.

_I do miss him… Perhaps I could… _

_No. It has been too long and… and far too many lives were lost due to my affections. It… It would not be right to see him again._

_And yet…_

_I do miss him._

Albus grimaced and after a moment's hesitation, he disapparated with a soft pop, reappearing seconds later on an enormous slab of wet, slippery rock. He gazed up at the foreboding black tower of shale-stone, wincing as the icy water of the Baltic Sea blew into his face.

'**FOR THE GREATER GOOD.'**

The words scrawled over the gates mocked him as he passed beneath it; mocked his entire life.

_What is the point of me?_

There was a light at the top of the gargantuan structure, flickering in the cell of Nurmengard's only occupant.

Albus touched the control stone at his side, visualizing his destination. The scenery around him faded and rematerialized before his very eyes. In seconds, he was outside the cell's bars.

There he was… as old and shriveled as Albus himself, lying on the moldy cot.

Piles of books and parchment littered the floor of the magical, steel prison. And wherever there was a free stretch of metal, small, blood-red flowers grew, their petals gleaming in the torchlight.

"Alchemy?" asked Albus softly. "Whatever did you sacrifice?"

"Nothing of real worth," replied the man, holding up a hand missing all but two fingers. "Albus… at last you come."

His deep, gravelly voice, thick with a Polish accent, still sent shivers down Albus' spine.

"Yes, Gellert. I felt it was time enough for a visit at least. I must admit that I'm somewhat surprised to find you taking to your imprisonment with such languid acceptance."

Gellert shook his head. "Oh... I stopped attempting to navigate the maze… forty years ago. I wish now I had not put such effort into its creation. Every step forward was a lifetime of torture. I could not bear it. I saw too many of their faces."

"Faces?"

"Of the dead... of the injured... of all who I wronged. Freedom can only be granted when one confronts and repents for every atrocity that was committed. A most effective system, is it not? Out of all my endeavors, this place is my masterpiece. It is fitting that I now meet my end inside it."

Albus reached out to stroke a flower on one of the bars. "I am not here to end you, Gellert. I could not then. I will not now."

"Then leave me, Albus. I beg you. To hear your voice after so long; to feel the power of the wand in your hand… it pains me greatly."

Albus sighed heavily and sat down, leaning against the wall. "I do not wish to leave. Not yet. I have missed you these long years, Gellert."

Gellert's good hand was suddenly reaching through the bars. "And I you, Albus. Yet I suspect this is not the reason only for your visit."

He took the withered hand in his own and rubbed it softly. "It was the reason that brought me over the tipping point I think. But you are, of course, correct. It alone was not enough. Long have I desired to visit. We are old men... and despite your crimes... I cannot let you leave this world without first sharing with you my discovery; a discovery that has given meaning to much of our wretched lives."

"What is it? What have you discovered?"

"Gellert... I... I found the shroud."

The man's hand tightened around his own. Gellert's withered face appeared from the shadows to press against the bars, his blue eyes wide with the same boyish twinkle Albus had fallen in love with all those years ago. "You found it! Where? Who?_ What family?_"

He hesitated to tell him.

"Come now, mein liebster. I cannot free myself… nor do I even wish to. Give me something to occupy my mind for the few years I have left."

Albus had never been able to resist him when he was excited. "I... I suppose. It was the Potters… nee Peverells."

"Ignotus?"

Albus nodded.

"I knew it!" Gellert shouted gleefully. "Let… Let me see it, Albus!"

"I... I cannot. I have returned it to the youngest Potter."

"YOU WHAT?" cried Gellert in anger. _"Why?"_

"Unlike you, my love, I am no thief. It was loaned to me… and I have returned it to the rightful owner."

"Spare me your snobbery, Albus. I know you wanted to keep it for yourself. You have always been so easy to read. You must have felt a tremendous amount of guilt to return it willingly."

"I… I did, yes. The parents died by the wand of the man that followed your footsteps. It could have helped them escape. I was ashamed to have kept it for so long."

"The man that followed... Do you mean... Riddle? _HA!_ I'm insulted, Albus! A talentless hack if ever there was one. Young Karkaroff boasted to me of his Master's glorious rise. _Dark Lord indeed._ Only a desperate _fool_ would attempt to gain power through such _disgusting_ rituals."

Albus froze. "Rituals? What rituals?"

Gellert shook his head, chuckling. "That is for _me_ to know... and _you_ to find out... And if you touch my mind again, Albus, I shall possess you and tear apart your soul."

Albus smirked and hastily retracted the mental probe. It was a threat they had often used to intimidate the other as boys. They had shared their first kiss after just such an occasion.

"You are as sharp as ever. I apologize."

"You are forgiven." Gellert smiled. His teeth were grimy.

With resigned wave of the Elder Wand, Albus conjured a toothbrush and small tube of paste, passing both through the bars.

The man laughed and took it gratefully. "My thanks. I am afraid prison food has not been good to me… nor has it been good to my gums." He picked at his ribs and after a long pause, asked in an apprehensive voice, "But… what of the stone? If the three brothers of legend were truly-"

Albus interrupted him. "No. I have stopped my search. I no longer wish to bring her back. I am... _unworthy_."

Gellert frowned. "Ah... yes. I am… _sorry_… for my part in that. I have spent many years thinking on it. Look at my flowers. Daisies."

Albus smiled wistfully. "Yes… I did notice."

"I have thought on much in my time here. I regret so many things, Albus; so many horrors. You were right; you were always right. We… We were wrong and I led you astray."

"It is good to hear you say that, Gellert. Perhaps, when we leave this life… we may start anew."

Gellert grinned. "I would like that very much, Albus. Now… _please_… leave me. Take that accursed wand away from this place."

"As you wish." He reached into his pocket, put several Lemon Drops into Gellert's hand, and left the cell without another word.

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Harry woke to sunshine on her face and a hand on the skin of her belly. She flipped the hourglass back to normal before she gave in to the urge to push the hand down to her center.

_Gin._

Ginny's arm tightened around her as Harry tried to sit up. The redhead let out a little mewl of protest and her hand slid further up Harry's shirt.

_Where did I get a shirt? It's a good shirt so it can't be mine. _

Pulling Ginny's hand out exasperatedly, she put her lips down on her friend's neck and blew a loud raspberry. Ginny shrieked and flailed, rolling off the bed.

_Ooopsies. _

Harry leaned over the side and saw that Ginny's chest was heaving.

_Oh bugger. _

She jumped off and got down on the floor, saying in a small voice, "Shite, Gin, I'm sorry. I was just having a laugh."

Ginny turned over to face her… and she was laughing. She pulled Harry into a hug. "I had a nightmare that last night was a dream and that you were gone. Knowing that you aren't is definitely worth a slightly bruised bum." She slowly stood up, dragging Harry with her.

Harry's eyes were only level with Ginny's nose. She put a hand on her own head and then stepped away. The hand was at Ginny's eyebrows. "That's rubbish that is," said Harry moodily.

Ginny took her hand. Their charms made their familiar sounds as they spun together. "Promise me that you'll be around long enough to catch up." She was smiling… but it didn't reach her eyes; the worry blocked it out.

Harry slipped her arms around Ginny's neck, trying to make that promise with touch alone.

"Do I get a hug?" said a breaking, yet familiar voice.

She whirled around. "Ron!" He was awake, face adorned with his signature goofy grin. Running to him, she threw herself into his arms and he whirled her around laughing and holding her tight. Ron had gotten taller too and Harry was back to being below his shoulders.

"Thought I lost you mate," said Ron softly, returning her to the ground, brushing a little lock of hair back behind her ear.

"Nah," Harry said, sighing into his shirt. "Little thing like dying in a cupboard? Can't get rid of me that easily, can you? Potters are only allowed to go out in a blaze of glory."

Ron chuckled. "Cheeky today are we? Ah well… lets me know you're really here." He ruffled her hair affectionately.

Harry tilted her chin to look up into his crystal blue eyes. Another ache in her chest disappeared. Cupping his cheek, she muttered, "I missed you, Ron."

"Missed you too, Harry." His stomach grumbled loudly. "Er… you two want anything from the café? I'm starving."

Professor Dumbledore strode into the room, wearing robes of an obscenely bright orange, smiling benignly as if his sudden appearance was a normal occurrence. "Why don't you scrounge up some food, Mr. Weasley. I need to have a chat with Harry here."

Ron nodded and left. Professor Dumbledore looked pointedly at Ginny who started towards the door, but Harry caught her hand. "No. Stay with me, Gin."

"Much of what we have to discuss is of a sensitive nature, Harry," Professor Dumbledore warned.

Ginny gazed questioningly into her eyes and said, "It's alright, Harry. I don't mind leaving."

Harry shook her head and pulled the redhead back towards her. "Only one secret."

Ginny grinned.

"Very well," Professor Dumbledore said, flicking his wand to conjure a rather large armchair and a comfortable looking couch. "First, let me say how happy I am to see you fully recovered." He sat down in the armchair, which sighed happily as if the Headmaster had just done it a large favor. Seeing Harry's bug-eyed look, he explained lightly, "Happy Chairs, one of my most brilliant ideas if I do say so myself. There is nothing more gratifying than a chair that lets you know how much it appreciates you sitting in it. Do you like them?" Harry and Ginny sat down on the couch, which shrieked in fright. "Ah yes… still a work in progress."

"They're… very nice, sir," said Harry, trying to restrain her laughter.

Dumbledore nodded appreciatively and folded his hands in a steeple, face falling into a serious expression. "Harry, I must ask… Were you aware of your actions when you protected you mind?"

Harry ogled him. "When I what? I don't understand, sir."

"Then I shall take that as a no. Hmmmm… most intriguing Harry… most intriguing." The old man scratched his bearded chin and adjusted his half-moon spectacles.

"Sir… I saw my parents."

Dumbledore smiled widely. "Oh! That is most wonderful, Harry; the most wonderful thing I have heard in years in fact. It warms my heart to know that some little bit of them still exists somewhere.

"It… it _was_ wonderful, sir. I brought it up though because... Well, they told me things that I didn't understand. I was hoping… maybe you could help me explain some of them… and then, that way I… I could know for sure…"

Dumbledore fixed her with a penetrating stare. "I will do what I can. Yet… you may not like the answers. Believing, Harry, is often far more satisfying then knowing. That being said… fire away."

"Well… my mum said to tell Snape-"

"_Professor _Snape, Harry."

"Er… right. Well she told me to tell him that she… forgives him. Did he do something to her?"

Professor Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Severus Snape and your father were… rather unfriendly towards each other… much like yourself and Miss Parkinson. Even after your father saved Severus' life and his resentment dwindled, Severus held on to his anger. Your mother, however, she and Severus were close friends while at school."

Harry's breath caught in her chest. "_WHAT?"_

"Yes, as surprising as it may seem, they were quite close up until their sixth year. It is not my place to tell you why they had a falling out. So do not ask me. But you should be happy, Harry… There is no way you could have been privy to such information. The woman that told you that… was indeed your mother, in some shape or form."

_Yeah… it was. _

Harry looked up to the ceiling and Ginny cuddled into her side.

_Love you, Mum. _

"Sir… there's more. My Godfather, Sirius… where is he?"

"Sirius? Why he... he currently resides in the wizarding prison Azkaban."

"W-Why?"

"Well… he… Goodness me, I never thought I'd be telling you this, my dear girl. Sirius Black betrayed your parents to Voldemort and proceeded to kill thirteen people, which included another of your parents' friends, Peter Pettigrew."

Harry gasped.

_He killed… but… but… what?_

"Professor… my father told me to listen to Sirius and that his story needed to be told. He made me promise to not underestimate Peter. What does that mean?"

Dumbledore sank back into the chair, closing his eyes. "This… is most unexpected. I cannot answer you yet, Harry. But I assure you… I'll look into it."

"Al-Alright, sir. Do you think I could… Would it be possible to see him?"

The Headmaster's eyes popped open and he said with hesitation, " I… believe that _might_ be possible. It will raise many questions amongst the community as to why you are visiting him… but yes… it would be…Well, I will see what arrangements can be made. However, it may take quite some time before a request to see such a high profile prisoner can be processed."

"Thank you, Professor."

Dumbledore nodded. "There is something else I'd like to talk about, Harry. It involves the memories you placed behind the door."

Harry froze, eyes flashing apprehensively to Ginny.

_What if she… what if she runs? What if she hates me? _

Ginny's heartbeat was fluttering lightly against her shoulder.

Harry squeezed her hand and ambers met her emeralds. "Gin?" she breathed heavily. "Do you trust me?"

Ginny's shimmering hair fell into her face as she cocked her head, smiling radiantly. "Yeah. I trust you."

Harry placed her head down upon Ginny's shoulder and whispered into her ear, "Then please don't leave me." She turned to Professor Dumbledore. "Yes, sir. What about them?"

"I felt your shame for the ability, stemming from Hagrid's warning," Dumbledore said with a wheeze. "But I assure you, Harry, even though the information would be best kept secret to avoid general panic, being a Parselmouth… talking to snakes… is nothing to be ashamed of. As I have told you before, magic is not to be feared… rather, only what one does with it."

Harry had heard the words roll from his tongue as slowly as honey dripping from a spoon; she had felt Ginny's sharp intake of breath against her neck; had felt the hand she was holding tightly tear violently away from her grasp; had felt the warm body lying against her shoulder retreat to the far side of the couch. Harry slowly turned to her, dreading... _knowing_ what she would see.

Ginny's eyes were filled with fear… and mistrust.

Harry reached out and Ginny scooted away.

An overwhelming feeling of despair swept over her. Harry let out a soft sob and cried, "Gin… _please!_ I'm still me!"

Ginny squeaked in fear as Harry again reached for her.

_Gi-Ginny… _

Harry had to get out of here; out of this room; away; far away. She jumped up... and ran; _sprinted_ down the hall, fleeing from the one person she cared for most in this world. She knocked into Ron on the staircase and the food in his arms flew everywhere. Ignoring his questioning shout, she darted down the steps with no idea where she was going. It didn't matter; nothing mattered. The halls were empty save for a few people in green robes here and there. They yelled after her, but their voices were buzzing in her ears.

There was sunshine ahead. She thrust herself into it, bursting out into open air, bare feet slapping against the concrete of what had to be London. Passersby seemed to be too busy to notice that a small girl with no shoes had just materialized through a solid glass window and Harry was too upset to care if they had. She darted down and across the street, almost to be hit by a double-decker as it cruised around a corner.

Her feet hit grass and she sprinted across a wide open field to a small path that led into a rather dense growth of foliage. Harry turned down the path winding, scattering the ducks that littered it, and emerged into a small abandoned clearing. In its center was a bronze-cast statue of a boy playing a long pan-flute. Harry found that she could run no more. Her legs gave out and she collapsed against the statue in tears. Uncontrollable sobs racked her body, her eyes and nose leaking fiercely.

'_You deserve it,' said Piers hotly._

_But… she loves me!_

'_No she doesn't… you're a nasty little freak. Why would anyone love you?'_

_She said she… she… She told me she did!_

'_She lied, Potty.'_

Harry went numb. Ginny had abandoned her. Nothing mattered anymore.

Eventually, her tears waned, her breath evened, and her mind emptied. She sat there, blank as a fresh roll of parchment, absorbing the scenery with disinterest. The only emotion she could bring herself to feel was mild surprise… for another statue had appeared in the clearing. It had not been there moments before. The statue was of a woman, two men, and five boys that sat between them. The woman was quite beautiful, even in bronze. There was a large inscription on the base of the statue that read:

_**For the woman I loved, the friend I envied, and the children I cherished.**_

_**-J.M.B.**_

"Oi! You done sulkin on me stump?" asked a loud voice with a Cockney accent.

Harry jumped. There was no one else in the clearing. Looking around the edge of the statue she called out nervously, "Hello?"

"Up 'ere, luv."

Harry looked up.

Had she not spent a year at Hogwarts, she might've been frightened. The bronze boy was staring down at her and hanging lazily off the stump he had been standing on, his flute dangling from his hand. A bronze girl, roughly three/fourths the boy's size in every dimension, was kissing and licking his ear intently as her metallic wings flapped like a hummingbird's.

The boy swatted at her. "Keep it in your pants, Tink. We 'ave a guest."

The fairy-girl moaned in a high squeaky voice, "We _always_ have guests, Peter. Just because this one can see us doesn't make a difference. Come on… it's been ages since we've had a good hard shag. I'll let you put it in my-"

"No means no, ya `orny little bugger. Later yeah? Blimey, Ol' Barrie must `ave been in a right foul mood ter magic ya the way he did."

The fairy harrumphed loudly, punched the boy in the head with a clang, and flew out of sight, disappearing on the other side of the monument.

Peter the Statue gestured down at Harry. "Now… Witch… what's wit' all this 'ere racket? Woke me up ya did. And look, yer snottin all over me brass. Not very decent of ya, if ya ask me."

"Sorry," said Harry, offering nothing more.

"Ahhh," Peter said knowingly. "Boy troubles, is it?"

Harry couldn't laugh. Within her mind, there was nothing; she was empty... broken.

"Hardly. Leave me alone, please."

"Right," drawled the metal boy, ignoring her dismissal. "Bit too runty fer that, I s'pose. So... family troubles?"

Harry didn't respond.

"No? Hmmm… Lost someone?"

Harry's heart lurched. There must have been some physical reaction as well, for Peter asked, "Who died then?"

"No one… I just… lost them."

Peter chuckled. "This person you lost… was she, by chance, a cute little ginger girl?"

There was another loud clang as Tink the Fairy most assuredly clobbered the boy's leg.

Harry was a bit shocked at the statue's perceptiveness. "How'd you know that?"

"Well, she's right over there, luv… starin at ya."

Harry looked up… and there she was. Ginny, eyes blazing, holding her charm, followed by Ron and Dumbledore; Ginny… face no longer showing fear; Ginny… running towards her.

The redhead fell into Harry, grasping her shoulders, pulling her into an embrace. Hands tangled into her hair, lips brushed her cheek, and a nose rubbed against her neck.

"Harry… I'm sorry!" cried Ginny frantically. "I was so stupid… Forgive me. _Please_. I need you to forgive me!"

_Forgive me? _

_Forgive her._

_Forgive who?_

'_You deserve it,' said Piers hotly._

_But… she loves me!_

'_No she doesn't… you're a nasty little freak. Why would anyone love you?'_

_She said she… she… She told me she did!_

_'She lied, Potty.'_

…

_No she didn't. _

'_You're just a freaky little cunt.'_

_No I'm not!_

'_She hates your guts.'_

_**PISS OFF, PIERS! **_

Everything that made her who she was flooded back into her. "Gin…" she said quietly. "Do you… still love me?"

Ginny nodded hurriedly into her shoulder. "Forever and ever, Harry. All my life people told me that it was evil magic... and I just... _reacted._ I don't care if you're a Parselmouth. You told me before that you could talk to Alice and I… I didn't even think twice about it. Remember? In the tub?" Ginny pulled back and smiled, roughly wiping away a tear. "You're Harry. That's all that matters to me."

Harry put her head down on the redhead's neck, crying lightly into her hair. "I… I was so…" Her heart was flipping continuously in her chest. "Don't you ever do that to me again, Gin. Promise me!"

"Never again," swore Ginny. "Never ever."

When they had both calmed, Harry took her hand and asked hopefully, charms clinking, "Friends?"

Ginny squeezed her tighter. "The best."

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**Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page. Contains some NSFW content.**

**Several new arts added.**

**Review!**

**looking for nitpicky betas-grammar specific**

Sorry about the wait. Life's been a bit hectic. Chapter is nice and long to make up for it though.

Lots of baggage went into this chapter. When I wrote Harry with her parents… I was sobbing. Looking back… it's nowhere near as emotional as it was in my head.

Just so everyone knows final pairings are H/G, R/Hr, D/P as it was in canon until the epilogue. I did the arranged marriage stuff because:

A) It explained the canon change as a result of Harry's existence.

B) It fits with the nineteenth century culture that purebloods seem to be stuck in.

C) Pansy is a great character. Her mean, bratty one-liners always made me laugh in the books. She's my anti-harry as Draco was JK's.

But the main reason is because… honestly… who the fuck cares about Astoria Greengrass?

Who laughed raucously when I said that Pan's clearing in Kensington Gardens was abandoned… in the summer… during the day?

Thanks to all for reading and reviewing.


	9. Chapter 8: The Book from No One

People are asking, "will Harry and Ginny hook up soon?"

This is the summer of 1992. Harry just turned 12. Ginny turns 12 in November. Have you ever seen two **closet-**_**bisexual**_ 12 year old girls that are madly in love with each other?

They're essentially in the second year of secondary school. (7th grade US) They're fresh from the years of drawing hearts around names in Marble notebooks; fresh from the years of Tinkerbell, She-Ra, and My Little Ponies memorabilia; just starting to venture into the land of first kisses, braces, acne, and diddling oneself. Don't rush the wonders of puberty. It'll bite you in the tuckus.

(they are _both_ bisexual, yes. Ginny is attracted to Michael Corner, Dean, and Harry in Canon. Harriet existing wouldn't suddenly make that attraction to men disappear. They'll both have experiences without each other and with the opposite sex.)

All deviation from canon is linked to Harry. Things won't be changed for change's sake.

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**Chapter 8: The Book from No One**

_There was a sound like a gigantic bonfire burning all of Time, all the years and all the parchment calendars, all the hours piled high and set aflame._

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Luna opened the set of wooden drawers and ran her hand over the soft fabrics, remembering…

_This was unbearable. Curiosity getting the better of her, Luna turned the door handle and pushed, peeking in through the crack to watch her mother work. Her breath caught in her chest as she beheld the contents of the almost always closed workroom_

_Hovering in the center of the room was a swirling, spiraling rune of multicolored light. Her mother stood on its far side, pouring spells into its center. Oddly… the rune was absorbing each one. _

_Luna couldn't look away. It was fascinating... mesmerizing. Her mother seemed to think so as well, for her eyes were alight with glee. After several minutes of casting, she halted, wand hovering over the center of the spirals. She bit her lip… Luna could tell she was on the verge of something; she was hesitating… arguing with herself. _

_But something changed in her mother's visage, something that twisted her hesitation into determination. She muttered a spell that Luna couldn't hear. There was a flash of green light. _

_The rune swelled and distorted violently. Her mother's determined look faltered in dismay. Their eyes met from across the room as the light of the rune, now a violent green, shot up her mother's arm. _

_A loud scream, violently cut short, echoed into Luna's ears. Something wet splattered across her face through the crack in the door. _

"We do miss you, Mummy. Daddy is very unhappy. He doesn't eat his Plimpy stew. He's especially bad today because it's your anniversary." Luna glanced at the picture of the beautiful blonde on the dresser and said to her fondly, "I'm… I'm alright though; I know you're here with me."

She dug around in the messy drawer curiously and gasped when she found a lacy, blue, _see-through_ bustier and a decidedly racy pair of matching knickers and garters. Luna cocked her head, trying to imagine her mother wearing something so… _obviously not for daily wear._

In another moment of impulsive curiosity, she took off her own clothes, slid the lingerie on, attached the garter stockings, and stepped in front of the full length mirror. The undergarments hung loosely off her thin frame, but Luna rather liked them; the silk brushed against her skin in a most exhilarating manner. "That's interesting. I feel older…" Turning sideways, she ran a hand over the corset's cups; cups that she wasn't even close to filling. "I feel like I'm you… just less pretty. I wonder… do you think I'll be pretty, Mummy?"

Luna walked back to the drawer and pulled out a Ravenclaw blouse, slipping it on over the corset. It was wonderfully soft, albeit several times too large, resting on her chest like a potato sack. "Wrackspurts have made your shirt their nest for the summer season, Mummy. It's much softer than I remember." She could still smell her mother's perfume on the collar. "You know, I find your scent often around the house. You did always smell so nice. Pine … with a dash of hazelnut… a bit like broom polish."

The Ravenclaw skirt unfortunately wouldn't stay on her hips, so she pulled out one of her mother's ties and wrapped it tightly around her waist to keep the skirt up. "Hmmmm something's missing," she said, once she was back in front of the mirror.

Luna poured through each drawer, looking for that little something that would make Daddy smile when he saw her. She found it amongst the jewelry; her mother's necklace and favorite pair of earrings. "Oh yes," she said, slipping the hooks through the holes in her ears. "That looks simply wonderful." The butterbeer corks and the little radishes made the whole thing just perfect. It would surely cheer him up.

"Daddy!" She trouped down the circular staircase into their living room where her father was writing an extremely groundbreaking article about Gernumbly venom. "Daddy, look! I'm Mummy."

Daddy turned around slowly.

Daddy didn't laugh.

Daddy didn't smile.

Daddy's eyes didn't twinkle like they used to.

Daddy was… blank.

"Take that off, Luna," he said wearily, returning to his writing.

Luna frowned. "But Mummy doesn't mind that I'm wearing-

He cut her off sharply, his quill scratching furiously across the page. "Of course she doesn't mind! She's _gone,_ you silly child! She's dead. Stop trying to bring her back." Her father didn't raise his eyes as he said it, which hurt Luna all the more.

Standing abruptly, Daddy quickly gathered up his papers while she whispered under her breath, "Mummy isn't gone, Daddy. She's with us wherever-"

He left the room, slamming the door of his study behind him.

"…we go." Luna sighed heavily and picked up her Plimpy stick. The sky through the window was bright and cloudless. "It's an excellent day for plimping, Mummy. Daddy doesn't like to come with me anymore, because your song makes him cry."

She walked out of the house and across the rolling fields towards the forest that concealed her favorite stream. Just beyond those woods was the Weasley's home. "Perhaps I'll visit with Ginny. She's very pretty, isn't she, Mummy? I like the way her hair sparkles in the sun. You know, her brothers are quite pretty as well… especially Ronald." Ginny's smiling face swam before her eyes. "I do like her very much… I think she might even be my friend. Do you think she might kiss me soon?" Luna reached the stream bank and unhooked her garters, rolling them up to stuff into her skirt pocket. She jumped into the water with a great splash, trilling loudly to ward off any Kelpies.

When Luna reached the deepest part of the stream, she sang at the perfect off-key pitch to lure the plimpies out from their mud-palaces. "OH A PLIMPY ONE OR TWO OR THREE, A PLIMPY I WOULD LIKE TO SEE. A PLIMPY SMALL AND LIGHTNING QUICK, I'LL CATCH A PLIMPY WITH MY STICK!"

Luna saw a movement out of the corner of her eye and she slapped her stick down in the water. "Yes!" The little round fish struggled to free its long stringy legs from beneath the wood. She picked up her catch proudly. "Oh my… this one is excellent. A fine…"

There was a large brown spot on the underside of the plimpy's belly.

"Drat! It has babies." Luna released the fish into the strong current and resumed her song as she trudged through the water. "OHHHH A PLIMPY IS SLIPPERY AND OFTEN WET; YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ONE WITH THAT NET! A PLIMPY STEW IS MILD AND SWEET; A PLIMPY STEW JUST CAN'T BE BEAT!

She rounded a bend in the stream, closed her eyes, and embraced the joys of plimping. "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH A PLIMPY ONE OR TWO OR THREE, PLIMPIES COME AND PLAY WITH ME. SO RAISE YOUR STICK AND SING ALONG TO MY SPIFFY PLIMPY CAAAATCHIIIIIING SOOOOOOOOOOOONNNG!"

As Luna finished the final verse with her hands raised in celebration, she heard a tinkling giggle over the babble of the water. It sounded very much like the wind-chime that hung outside her bedroom window.

_Perhaps I am still in bed_.

Opening her eyes, she found the tinkling's source… and gasped.

Lounging on the rock where she often found Ginny, was the most breathtaking girl Luna had ever seen. Her long messy jet black hair fell into her face. Her raven locks rolled in waves over her shoulders, sticking up in several odd places and blowing about in the soft breeze. She wore a red one-piece bathing suit that accentuated what little curves she had most effectively. Her body was athletic and toned, rippling with catlike muscle that wasn't visible until she moved. Her skin was a tan, creamy color and completely unblemished. Her eyes were…Well, Luna would never forget that color. They were exactly the same shade as the last spell Mummy had cast before she died.

The girl cocked her head, smiling widely.

As Luna looked at those very full, very pink lips, she felt… odd… and warm… and... _tingling_.

The girl didn't seem mortal. There was an odd glow about her; a glow that didn't belong in this world. She was… _beyond_ life. She was ethereal… and irresistible.

Luna bowed low, awed to be in the presence of a real goddess. Her voice quavered when she spoke, "It is an honor to meet your acquaintance, Goddess. I am sorry to disturb you with my song. It is required for plimping." She darted her stick into the water, picked up the freshly caught plimpy, and held it out in offering to the deity. "For you, Goddess."

The Goddess reached out, took the fish gingerly by its foot, and with a laugh, said to Luna, "This thing is intriguingly slimy… and why are you calling me Goddess?" The Goddess' voice was soothing and smooth, very much like the piano music Mummy so liked to listen to. She handed the fish back to Luna.

"Surely you know, Goddess?" asked Luna, dropping the plimpy back into the water, feeling unhappy that her offering had been rejected. "One must address the Gods with the proper respect or they will smite your houses with their terrible wrath. I'm very sorry my offering doesn't please you."

The Goddess spluttered. "I'm…wait… _what?_ I'm not a _goddess!_"

_Not a goddess? How odd... _

"Are you a water nymph?"

_Surely she was at least a water nymph._

"Erm… no…" the not-a-goddess-nor-nymph said shortly.

Luna backed away, brandishing her stick at the… thing. "You're a kelpie, aren't you? ULULULULULULUU!"

Her kelpie trill didn't scare the not-a-kelpie away.

"What are you?" asked Luna, fascinated. "Are you a new species of magical creature? _Oh_… Daddy will be so excited!"

"What are you talking… _No!_ I'm just… _I'm a girl!_" yelled the girl in complete and utter confusion.

"A _girl?_" asked Luna in shock. " You mean... _a human?_ But... you're far too beautiful to be a human."

The girl's lips parted in a little gasp.

Luna wanted to touch her _very_ much; to bask in her glow. "And you're _glowing_. Are you perhaps a Veela? Although… no… that seems unlikely… I've never heard of a Veela that glows."

The girl held up her hands to her face, turning them over in front of her terribly green eyes. "I'm not glowing," she said pointedly.

"Oh but you are! It's all around you. I can see it plain as day. It's certainly not of this world." Curious, Luna jumped up onto the rock and sniffed at the gorgeous black-haired girl. She smelled strongly of pine… and hazelnut.

_Broom polish._ _Mummy's smell… _

"Oh my… are you… Mummy, is… is that you?" asked Luna hopefully, brushing a hand against her mother's cheek. "Have you come back to us from the dead?"

"I'm hairy!" said Mummy in exasperation.

"You don't seem very hairy to me," Luna said, trailing her raised hand down Mummy's collarbone. "Quite hairless in fact… except for your gorgeous head of hair… is that what you meant?"

Mummy shuddered as Luna's finger reached the tip of the bone.

"I mean my _name_ is Harry… Harriet Potter." Harriet Potter's beautiful eyes searched her face. "Back from the dead… What did you mean when… Can you really see an otherworldly glow on me?"

"Oh yes, Harriet. It's… _wrong_… somehow. It's rather alluring you know. I find myself wanting to touch you very much."

Harriet blushed and said softly, "Oh that's… well… I think I… I think I understand what you mean then… about the glow. I wonder why only you see it…" She fiddled with the straps of her bathing suit. "What's your name then?"

Luna felt very silly. "Oh my… I did forget to introduce myself, didn't I? I thought you were a Goddess, you see."

"Erm… yes… I noticed," said Harriet, staring at her strangely.

"Well, my name is Luna Laurelia Louisa Lovegood. It's very nice to meet you, Harriet."

Harry waved her hand dismissively. "It's just Harry, actually. Harriet is a bit too… _stuffy_."

Luna nodded. "To each their own… although, I find Harriet to be a very nice name. It rolls off the tip of my tongue pleasantly. Harriet. Haaaaaaaarriet. Harriiiiiiiet. Yes… quite nice. Do you visit this rock often, Harry?"

Harry shook her head. "No, I'm… I'm staying with my friends: Ron and Ginny.

Luna smiled at the rather interesting coincidence. "That's amazing, isn't it? I know a girl named Ginny that lives just over that hill there. She too has a very good friend named Harry that sent her several letters. I read one. She was very nice and I thought I might've liked to kiss her."

"Oh erm… I think _I'm_ the Harry you mean," said Harry nervously.

"_Yes…_ that does make sense, I suppose." To Luna, Harry instantly became several times more beautiful than she was already… if that were possible. Her eyes locked onto those full, pink lips that were parted in a slight 'o.' "You know… you have very nice lips, Harry. They look so soft… and… _inviting._"

"Um… that's… thank you?" The girl must have realized how close they were for she leaned back onto her elbows to create space. Luna followed her movement, never removing her gaze from the small mouth. She was entranced. Luna knelt between Harry's legs; their faces mere inches apart.

She couldn't stop herself.

Leaning forward, she closed her eyes and captured the perfect lips with her own. Electricity shot down her spine; her brain exploded into mush; her nerves screamed out in joy.

_Oh yes… this is very nice. They're just as soft as they look._

Harry gasped against her mouth, but didn't pull away, which Luna greatly appreciated. The kiss was far too enjoyable to stop so suddenly.

Harry moaned, arching her back upwards. Luna leaned into the girl's toned body and they fell back against the rock, their lips still locked together. She liked how Harry's mouth bounced as her lips moved against it; she liked how their hips sat on top of each other; she liked the feel of Harry's skin rubbing against her own. She let her fingers slide up the girl's chest, tangling them into the silky raven hair at the back of her neck. Feeling like asking politely for entry was the proper thing to do, Luna opened her mouth to press her tongue against the tender lips.

That seemed to be the end of it though for the girl suddenly squealed, pushing on her shoulders.

Luna sat back, disappointed. Harry's eyes were wide with shock and her hand was touching her lips in disbelief. "What… what _was_ that?" she asked breathlessly.

Luna shrugged, unsure herself. "It was a kiss, I think."

"Yes, but… we… we can't kiss!"

Luna was very confused. "Oh... why not? I liked it very much and I'd like to do it again."

"We're… _we're girls_!" Harry cried indignantly. "Girls aren't supposed to… to kiss other girls like that!"

_Really? _

"Oh my… I never knew that." Luna felt extremely guilty that she had broken the rules. "I'm terribly sorry. I shan't kiss you anymore, Harry."

The girl ogled her, still panting heavily.

"Luna!" cried a familiar voice to their left. Ginny sauntered over to them through the trees, carrying a large tray of sandwiches. She was wearing a fetching blue bathing suit. "Hullo! Nice earrings. How have you been?"

"Very well, thank you, Ginny. Just yesterday I saw a _whole_ nest of Kerbudgeons. I should be going though. I'm afraid I've upset Harry here. I kissed her on the mouth... and that's against the rules you see." Guilt-ridden, Luna picked up her plimpy stick and rushed away from the pair, splashing back through the stream as quickly as she could.

Back in her room at the top of their tower, Luna explored the new and interesting warmth that seared between her legs. There was a spot that felt very nice to touch. Rubbing it vigorously, she felt a building tension, almost as if the spot was going to explode. When her mind drifted to Harry and the kiss they had shared, she shuddered in pleasure as her toes curled and spasms flooded her muscles violently.

"Oh my…" she said to her pillow after the twitches had subsided. "I do wish kissing her wasn't against the rules."

0000

0000

0000

0000

"We could go flying."

Harry thumped the back of her head on Ron's stomach and he grunted in protest.

"_Ron_… we've flown four times today."

Smirking, Ron poked her in the temple_. _"So?"

"So we're tired!" Harry said exasperatedly, running her fingers through Ginny's hair. "Blimey, I hope you're never the Quidditch Captain. You're more of a fanatic than Ollie."

"Why _thank you_," Ron said happily, laying back down into the lush grass, arms flopping to his sides.

Ginny laughed heartily causing Harry's belly to jiggle. "Don't give him compliments, Harry. His head is much too large as it is."

"Oi!" Ron tore away a fistful of grass and chucked it at his sister. The grass, of course, caught in the breeze and blew right into Harry's yawning mouth.

"Yeugh!" She spat out the dirt and grass, giving Ron another good head-thump on his stomach, before settling back down into his T-Shirt. It depicted Marcus Bode, Captain of the Cannons, spectacularly catching the snitch as he dangled from his broom. There was wide… _speculation_… that the photo was a fake.

They had been lying upon the ground for the past half hour, trying to think of something to do as they used each other's bodies as pillows.

_Save for Ron. No pillow for Ron._

_Ron… _

He looked more and more like Charlie every day. Harry would often catch herself staring slack-jawed at his broadening shoulders… after which she would blush down to her toes and mentally slap her brain repeatedly.

Harry breathed him in; breathed Ginny in; breathed the Burrow in. She let out a happy sigh as the summer sunshine caressed her skin.

_I'm home. _

Turning her head toward the garden, she fondly remembered the events of the previous night… It was the first night in her life that she truly felt she had a family.

**/FLASHBACK/**

The blindfold fell away and Harry gasped.

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY**

The magnificent banner hovering over the long table was painted in Gryffindor colors, and would, much to the consternation of Mrs. Weasley, occasionally emit great bursts of 'Have a Bloody Good Birthday,' a song of Fred and George's own composition. Mr. Weasley had conjured his fairy lights for the party and they were flitting about in the air above them. The tables were sinking with the weight of the food, around which sat the Weasleys, Professor Dumbledore, Hagrid, Neville, and Hermione.

Dinner had been delicious. Harry told Mrs. Weasley this at least six times and was rewarded on each occasion with more helpings. She thought she might've eaten more than Ron…

_'Might've' being the operative word._

The rest of the evening was spent laughing and joking... and bickering if your name happened to be Ron or Hermione. When Hermione arrived through the fireplace she had first made sure that Harry was completely recovered, and then immediately started in on Ron for not answering her letters.

Harry was only half-listening to their current argument. It was better to just stay out of their little spats. When they got into it… Well, it was a bit like a train leaving the station; slow at first, but building speed and ferocity as it chugged along. Anyone standing on the tracks when the train was at full speed would meet a brutal end.

"Honestly, Ron, chew or you're going to choke!"

"Sto' `esterin muh `oman."

"I'm serious, Ron, you'll hurt yourself."

He swallowed the very large bite of chicken. "Mione… let me eat in peace. Go read something."

Hermione swelled up like a balloon inflating.

Harry knew that wasn't going to end well and diverted her attention elsewhere around the table. A bonnet had somehow found its way onto the Headmaster's head as he entertained the twins by transfiguring their ears into those of different animals. Percy seemed scandalized that one of his mentors had the same sense of humor as his brothers. Charlie and Hagrid were having a very loud, very drunk conversation about dragon mating season. Alice sat next to her plate, humming loudly, occasionally stealing cherries from atop the candied yams. Bill regaled his mother with tales of the Nile and Egyptian Art. Mr. Weasley was dozing in his chair, hands folded, hat tipped down into his eyes. Neville was swatting at fairly lights that for some odd reason, were sticking to him fiercely… even more so than they did to Ginny, who at the moment looked like her head was on fire.

Their eyes met and Harry tried to mentally convey to her just how happy she was.

Ginny smiled and nodded, pulling her down the bench for a hug.

Quietly enough so only Ginny could hear, Harry whispered contently, "I love this… and all of you,"

Ginny swung a leg over the bench and slid forward so that Harry's back was up against her chest. "We love you too," she replied softly, snaking an arm around her waist. "Weasleys love each other unconditionally."

Harry sighed and sank back into the embrace, but Ginny shook her head. "No time for _snuggling_, Harry. Time for cake… and presents!" Her eyes were bright with rabid excitement.

"Wait," Harry pleaded. "Just… Gin can you just… hold me for a second? I'm… I'm positive that I'm going to start crying when all of this sinks in."

The redhead's bounces tapered off and she sank her chin down upon Harry's shoulder. "_Oh… Harry_…" Ginny stood and announced to the table, "back in a mo'…" She grabbed Harry's hand and dragged her into the house, climbing the steps to their room.

_Ginny's room… not our room._

Ginny leapt onto the bed, bouncing twice before flopping down into the covers. She held out a hand. Harry ran across the deep carpet and jumped, landing on Ginny with a great BOING of the mattress springs. They curled up.

It had been five days before Harry was cleared to leave the hospital. Ginny spent every one of those nights holding her just like this; spooned against her back with an arm wrapped tightly around her tummy. Harry would wake up in the mornings with the taste of strawberries fresh on her tongue, skin still tingling from the waves of pleasure that pulsed from her sex all through the night.

She was a little ashamed that her magic made her react like this… but… she had to admit… _she liked it._ She liked it not only because it made her body feel good, but because it made her heart feel good. Despite everything that had happened, knowing that she had people that she completely trusted with the wellbeing of her mind and her body… made her feel better than she ever had in her life.

Harry sniffled softly.

Ginny nosed at the back of her neck. Shaking Harry's hips lightly, she whispered in a cajoling voice, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I just…" Harry grabbed Ginny's hand and placed it over her heart. "This is my first Birthday party… I'm happy."

Ginny giggled and draped her knee around Harry's thigh. "One…"

Harry didn't quite know what that meant until lips pressed softly on her shoulder. "Two." Again. "Three." Ginny proceeded all the way up to twelve and then squeezed her tightly.

Wiping her eyes, Harry muttered into the pillow, "You're… you're so _good_ to me, Gin. You're _all_ so good to me. He told me… they… they told me I deserved what I got."

"No! Harry, they didn't deserve _you,_" Ginny said obstinately, pulling Harry's hair back from her neck so they could look one another in the eyes.

"I'm just not used to it," she said with a little shrug.

"Yeah… well you'd better get used to it! My pillow has gotten all soggy this past year from the waterworks we've been putting it through." Ginny rolled Harry over onto her back and brushed a finger across her forehead, tracing her scar lightly. "Besides… you're good to _me, _Harry. How would it be fair if I wasn't just as good to you?" Ginny plopped her chin down onto Harry's chest and fiddled with the neckline of the once again pearl-white dress. "You're my best friend and I love you. We all do."

That was the third time Ginny had said it. To not have the words said once in her entire lifetime... it just felt so _odd_ to hear them now… wonderful… yet odd. Harry stroked a thumb across her shoulder. "Shall we go eat cake?"

"Yes Harry… I think we shall." Ginny bounced up, grinning widely. "Right," she said, beckoning with her arms open, "come on you!

Harry stood and leapt off the bed, right into her arms, wrapping her legs around the redhead. She giggled maniacally as Ginny stumbled around trying to hold her weight. "Harry, I didn't bloody mean it like that!"

"Sorry…" she said happily. "I'm in a bit of a food coma. I think I had at least seven helpings of garlic potatoes."

"Mum loves you for that you know." Ginny put her down and pulled her back downstairs. "She just throws food away that we don't manage to get through if it sits around in the icebox for too long. But with you around… it's like she has three more children to feed. Problem solved."

"Yeah, well, I missed food," said Harry mulishly.

"Excuses…" Ginny poked her belly. "Piggy."

"Oi!" Harry cried, slapping her lightly on the bum.

"Don't you mean Oink Oink, Madam Piggykins?"

Ginny squealed as Harry dove at her and she rushed out into the yard, laughing madly as Harry got up to give chase. She took refuge behind Mr. Weasley's chair, which Harry felt was quite against the rules of chasing. "Alright you two," Mr. Weasley said, amused. "Calm down and let's get to that cake."

It was brought out to a deafening and off-key rendition of song from the overhead banner. The cake Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had made was absolutely fantastic, even after five days under a preservation charm. The hourglass flipped on its own when she took that first bite. Harry moaned involuntarily as the strawberry and chocolate mixed together in her mouth.

_Nothing this bad for you should be allowed to be this good._

"Present time!" shouted Ron once they had all finished. He grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the end of the table where several packages sat. Everyone clustered around her.

Ginny nuzzled her arm, entwining Harry's fingers with her own. "Happy Birthday. Just wait until you see mine!" Her amber eyes were bright with excitement. Some of it must've leeched onto Harry because within moments she too was bouncing on the balls of her feet as Ron passed her the first gift.

She opened it... to find a small cactus. It was… _staring up at her_… with oversized pink puppy-dog eyes. Neville laughed at her gasp. "Yeah… that was my reaction too. I convinced my Uncle Algie to let me fiddle in his Greenhouse… and two days later about thirty of these little guys had sprung up. No idea what I did though. My uncle was right chuffed he was. Said we should breed them and make a fortune selling them to the potions and pet shops. Got about two hundred growing right now… all different eye colors. All you gotta do is keep them in the sun. Don't even have to water them."

The cactus winked at her. "Wow, Neville… this is _bloody_ amazing!"

Mrs. Weasley tutted loudly.

Harry grinned guiltily… and yet… she felt pleased that she had someone to 'tut' at her. She nudged Ginny. "What should I name it?"

"Frances," said Ginny with absolutely no hesitation.

"_Frances?"_ asked Ron with a laugh.

Ginny nodded finitely. "Yes… Frances. It looks like a Frances."

"Frances it is," said Harry. She rubbed the top of its un-needled… _head? _Frances squinted in what Harry hoped to be happiness.

Hermione gave her three books on mind-magic; one theory and two practical: The Infinite Mind by Miranda Featherworth, A Beginner's Guide to Occlumency by Thaddius Shmelk, and Legilimency: The Grey Art by… she looked up at Professor Dumbledore questioningly. Eyes crinkling under half-moon spectacles, he smiled at her and said with a pointed wheeze, "Yes, my dear, it may surprise you due to my _sprightly_ and youthful appearance… but I have been around long enough to write a book or two."

Fred and George had brewed her a potion that would turn her hair Weasley red for a whole week… _So they say… _The identical Cheshire-cat grins they wore on their faces as Ron handed it to her made her _very_ nervous. She brought it to her lips, watching them out of the corner of her eyes. Their grins widened and they leaned forward intently. Harry promptly put the stopper back on the vial and said to their disappointed faces, "Nice try, boys."

"Oh come on, Harry, give it a go! We-"

"don't think it will hurt… much."

Mrs. Weasley reached over and smacked them both on the top of their heads.

Hagrid gave her a nice blue overcoat. It looked quite a lot like the moleskin one he currently wore, but it was made out of cloth, had fewer pockets, and flared outward at the hips, ending on the ground rather than the middle of her thighs as it would on a woman of say… Professor McGonagall's height. It was large, but she'd grow into it… _hopefully. _

Hagrid thumped her on the back. "Everyone needs a good coat `Arry, yeh mark my words. I got this one off a nice peddler chap that owed me a favor."

Ron gave her every chocolate frog card that he had more than one copy of… which was actually every card in his collection. Throughout the year, Ron had continuously grumbled to Harry that he always got the same ones. Hermione would remind him every time, that only ten wizards in the country had a full collection and that Ron himself was only seven cards short. She would then remind him to stop eating so many chocolate frogs.

Surprisingly, Professor Dumbledore gave her a gift as well. He handed her a little blood-red flower with a black stem. It was cool, hard, and heavy like metal, but it swayed gently in the breeze, just like a real flower. It reminded her of the statue of Peter and Tink; how their bronze hair had blown in the wind.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir… it's beautiful, but… why-"

He cut her off with a sad smile, placing a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. "I do not normally give gifts to my students, Harry. It won't become a regular occurrence. Think of this daisy as… an apology of sorts."

"Professor… you… you don't have anything to apologize for."

He spoke in a normal voice, but she had an odd feeling that only the two of them were privy to this conversation. "_Oh Harry_… if you only knew how many things I need to apologize for… perhaps you would not be so forgiving. Please, accept this gift. It is from both I and a very old friend of mine. He wishes you the best of luck in your endeavors." The headmaster squeezed her shoulder lightly, and Harry thought she knew who Dumbledore was speaking of.

"He… he found his way then?" she asked, brushing her fingertips across the small petals of the flower.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied simply.

Harry nodded and smiled. "Thank you, sir. It really is beautiful."

Ginny slid her arms around Harry's waist from behind. "My turn." She pointed through the gaps in Harry's arms at the larger of the last two presents on the table. It was a hat box.

"Is it a hat?" Harry asked her curiously.

"Yes," said Ginny shortly.

"Really?"

"No." Ginny pushed her toward the box and sank her chin down on Harry's shoulder. "Open it."

Harry lifted the lid and pulled away the tissue paper.

"_Oh!"_ Harry lifted the dress from the box. "Merlin… Gin, this is gorgeous. Where did you buy it?"

Ginny nuzzled her shoulder. "I made it with Mum."

Harry gasped, running her hands down the smooth light green cloth and the dark lacy stripe in its middle. "You… _you made it?_"

"Yeah. So you… you like it?"

Harry nodded vigorously. "Can I put it on?"

Ginny laughed. "It's yours, isn't it? Let's open the last one first though."

Mrs. Weasley picked up the rather small package and mothered at Harry's hair before saying quietly, "This is from all of us, Harry."

Harry unwrapped it slowly, carefully, so as to not to damage whatever was inside. The Weasleys were all holding their breath. Harry pulled from the wrapping… a spiky, black something with a hole at the bottom. She didn't understand.

Ginny squeezed her belly and whispered, "Flip it."

On the other side of the spiky object was her name… and her picture. Her knees wobbled as she whispered faintly, "For… for the clock?"

The family of redheads nodded all around her. Mrs. Weasley was tearing and she pulled Harry into a tight hug. "You should have been ours from the beginning, dear. Now... you really are."

**/END/**

Harry sighed sleepily as she twirled Ginny's hair around her finger. _I have a family… alive… here. _

Ginny nipped at her hand playfully.

"_Thesse brown creaturess are mosst amussing to chasse, Chica. You sshould join me."_

Harry laughed. "Maybe later, Alice."

Ron and Ginny jumped. Now that they knew and hadn't abandoned her, she sure as hell wasn't keeping being a Parselmouth secret anymore. Dumbledore had explained to all the Weasleys that it was Voldemort's power and not her own. Mrs. Weasley had cooed and fussed over her misfortune, but Harry had already said that if there was one thing she liked about the bastard, it was this gift he had given her. She had a great friend because of it.

"Merlin… I know it's not… _bad_ per se. But it's still creepy as all hell."

"Thanks Ron, love you too."

Ginny flipped over, resting her chin on Harry's waist. "So what does 'Folosscsseth efisssa ossass' mean?"

"It meant 'Maybe later, Alice.' She wants me to chase gnomes with her."

"At least Alice is coming up with ideas…" Sitting up with a start, Ron cried exuberantly, "Oh! Speaking of chasing… Snidget Hunt!"

Harry's head fell into his lap with a plop. "I thought they were all in protected reserves."

Ginny sighed exasperatedly. "Ron _swears_ he saw one in the woods."

"I did!"

"From a distance," replied Ginny with a laugh.

"Well… yeah alright," Ron said begrudgingly. "But how many birds are round and gold?"

"Plenty, you twit."

"Oh shut it. You think of something, Ginny."

"What about the stream," suggested Harry, "are there any deep bits? We could go… I dunno… splash around?"

"I'd be up for that," said Ginny, sitting up onto her knees. "I have a suit you could use, Harry."

"I'm not going in there!" Ron imitated a spider with his fingers and said disgustedly, "There are too many… _crawly _things. Come Snidget Hunting with me, Harry."

"No!" Ginny moaned. "Let's go swimming, Harry."

"_I will ssearch for brown creaturess,"_ Alice hissed happily.

For some strange reason, Harry couldn't make up her mind. She wanted to do both. But some primal instinct was telling her that if she chose one… she wouldn't be doing the other. She looked up at Ron and she looked down at Ginny.

Strawberries overpowered the grass.

"I… Come swimming with us, Ron… _please?"_

A familiar expression flashed across his face. She had seen it before on the night they had returned to Hogwarts from Christmas hols… when they were playing chess by the fire.

_Oh Ron... not again._

"Er… no. I'll… I'll just go see what the twins are doing." Ron gently pushed her off his lap, got up, and walked back toward the house.

"I love him," said Ginny laughing, as soon as Ron was out of earshot, "but what a ninny. Afraid of spiders, _honestly_."

As the words rolled off her friends tongue, anger Harry had never felt for the redhead sparked violently. Whirling on her, Harry yelled, "Don't you bloody _dare _say that again, Ginny!"

Ginny reeled back, face still half cracked in a smile, as if she thought Harry was joking. "Harry? What-"

"Ron is the bravest person I've ever known," she said fiercely. "A hundred times braver than the both of us put together. You've never had to… You've been sheltered! For you to… _to insult him_…" Harry trailed off, her fists clenching.

Amber eyes filled with angry tears. "I didn't- I'm sorry! I was just having a bloody laugh!" Ginny's mouth opened and closed… trying to say more. But it seemed like she couldn't… and so… she ran, crying into her hands, her cherry red hair flying behind her.

Harry's heart flipped unpleasantly and she chased after her. Catching up at the strawberry patch, she threw her arms around Ginny's waist and they fell to ground. Trying to talk first would have just fanned the Weasley temper. "I'm sorry, Gin," she whispered quickly, nuzzling her shoulder.

"Piss off," Ginny choked through her tears, turning her head away from Harry's.

"No… I won't. _I'm sorry_. I'm sorry times a thousand. I… I didn't mean to go off at you." She held Ginny tightly and planted a small kiss on her neck. "You just… _you don't understand_. I haven't told you what happened last year. What he's done for me… what he was willing to do… what he _did_ do for all of us."

Ginny, still sniffling but anger seemingly dissipated, wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and muttered, "Then… tell me tonight."

Harry nodded and wiped away the wetness on Ginny's cheeks. "I have to go talk to Ron. I'll meet you in your room." She rubbed her nose on Ginny's and sank into the hug. "Oh Gin… I'm so sorry," she whispered… just for good measure.

"It's okay…" Ginny touched her forehead to Harry's temple. "Now we're… we're square for what I did at the hospital."

"Completely square," Harry said with a grin. They got up and walked back to the house hand in hand, their charms clinking together lightly.

At the top of the stairs that wound through the Burrow, in the messiest of all the rooms, she found him. Ron sat on his bed, petting Scabbers with that miserable look on his face. She closed the door with a soft click, stepped over a pile of laundry, and lay down next to him on the Chudley Cannons comforter. Harry put her head on his shoulder. "I'll go Snidget Hunting with you whenever you want Ron… even if it _is_ illegal."

Ron snorted and pressed his nose into her hair. "It's not that."

"I know… Look, I'll tell you the same thing I said on hols. It's _different,_ Ron. You know it is. You're my best mate. Ginny's my best friend."

"That doesn't even make sense," Ron replied exasperatedly. "They're the same thing!"

"No… Ron… they're… they're two equal parts of a whole; two parts of what I need; two parts of what I've never had until now. You don't really want to paint your toenails, talk about boys, and cuddle with me do you?"

"No I bloody well don't… but… you like her more than me, Harry!"

"Oh Ron… you stupid… _wonderful_… prat. It's just different… as different as my right arm is from my left arm. Just… _don't do this_… it doesn't matter." Harry picked Scabbers up off the bed, set him on the table, and then straddled Ron's waist. "You're not getting up until you realize how ridiculous this jealousy is."

Ron turned away his gaze and said sadly, "You'll always choose her over me. I'll always be second."

"Bollocks," said Harry obstinately, pulling his chin back round to face her. "Sometimes I need you. Sometimes I need Ginny. Right now… after everything… I need her the most." She leaned down and kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger long after the time limit for 'a friendly peck' had expired, sending a little thrill up her spine.

Ron was blushing to the roots of his flaming orange hair, rubbing the spot where she had kissed him. "What was that for?"

Harry punched him in the arm… hard.

"Ouch! Bloody hell… what was _that _for?"

"You needed them both," Harry replied nonchalantly. "Now stop sulking and come swim with us."

"No I… I_ really_ don't like spiders, Harry. They're everywhere down there. Water crawlers and… stuff." He shuddered. "I'll be here. You go."

Harry giggled. "So you'll protect me from You-Know-Who, but not from spiders?

"Yeah… sounds about right," Ron said shrugging, still rubbing his arm. You know… you're scarily strong."

Harry flexed mockingly. "Make the Quidditch team in fourth year and you can be fit like me."

"Shut it. Go splash with bugs."

Harry kissed him again… right next to his lips. Giggling madly, she ran from the room, bolted down a flight of steps, and flung herself into Ginny's room.

Ginny was halfway into a blue two piece bathing suit. Freckles were everywhere. It always amazed her how many Ginny actually had. _We should count them one day. _Harry noticed that she did indeed have some strawberry curls in a little patch between her legs. Harry felt a flutter in her stomach, but she had no idea what it was from. _Too much breakfast probably... Too many Kippurs at least. How many did I eat? Five?_

"Harry," Ginny said, slipping into the bottoms, "can you tie me up?" She looked up, holding out her top. "Merlin! You're beet red! What did you two do?" When Harry didn't answer Ginny gasped and ran over to her, searching her face frantically. "_Harry!_ Do you… do you _like-_like Ron?"

"What? No!" she said quickly.

Ginny folded her arms and smirked knowingly.

"Well… only… just a _tiny_ bit," Harry mumbled in a very quiet voice.

Ginny squealed excitedly, jumping up and down on the spot. "You can get married! And have lots of babies! Little red-haired green-eyed babies! And we'll be sisters!"

Harry's face heated up and she grabbed Ginny's waist to stop her from bouncing. "Oh lay off… I think he likes… no… I _know_ he likes Hermione. You've seen how they bicker. Like a married couple. And he has this fierce obsession with toffee apples. Hermione uses shampoo that smells just like them. I'm counting the days until they start snogging in the middle of Potions."

"Well, then it's obvious. You'll just have to snatch him first," Ginny said slyly.

Harry shook her head, tying up Ginny's top. "I well… it _would_ be nice, but I don't… I don't think I could do that to Hermione. I remember when they weren't even friends and she… she cried for hours when he… well… when he wasn't civil to her. She's obsessed with him. Everyone can see it… I've got a five galleon bet going with Seamus on when they both realize it."

"But I want green-eyed nieces and nephews, Harry!" she whined playfully.

"Well… I could go for Charlie. What do you think?" Harry asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Ginny giggled. "You're not a dragon. He'd never pay you a moment's glance."

"Bill?"

"Has a serious thing for blondes," Ginny said, gesturing dismissively. She tossed Harry a red one-piece suit. "Put that on."

"Ta. So… Fred and George?" she asked coyly."

Ginny snorted. "_And?"_

Harry shrugged. "Whichever one isn't snogging Angelina in broom closets.

"Knowing the twins... they're probably taking turns."

"How about good ol' Percy?"

Ginny shook her head. "Same problem as Charlie… you're not a textbook or a sheet of rules."

Harry sighed over-dramatically and stripped, slipping into the slightly tight suit. She wrapped an arm around Ginny's belly, patting it. "Well… I happen to know you don't have any boy bits. So I think we're out of … Gin… what's that on your arm?"

Ginny held up her arms, flipping them over. "What's what on my arm?"

It was gone.

"I dunno," said Harry, examining a forearm closely. "I saw a light on your arm."

_It looked like… the same one._

"Oh yeah. Mum saw that too… at Christmas. They're just left over from Dad's fairies."

"Weird…" Harry muttered, slightly unconvinced.

"Come on, let's go." Ginny grabbed her hand and hauled her out of the house, all the way down to the stream.

There was a large rock on which they could sit and dangle their feet in the water. Harry jumped right into the knee deep stream. _Ron was right._ There were quite a lot of little water striders floating on surface tension. But they were tiny and rushed by quickly in the strong current. She took a big handful of water and threw it at Ginny, who was still testing the water with her toes. "It's fine, you big twonk. Come in."

After an hour of splashing, Ginny sat down against the rock, submerged in water up to her chest. "I'm exhausted," she said weakly, beckoning to Harry for a hug.

Harry sat down between her legs and slid backwards into her body. Leaning her head into Ginny's shoulder, she let the water cradle her as she relaxed completely, flipping the hourglass to take everything in.

Harry knew what would happen… she was _ashamed_ it would happen… but she did it anyway.

Ginny was brushing her fingers lightly over Harry's arm. Their hearts pounded together in unison. The thrashing currents of the water massaged her muscles. Ginny's breath cascaded over her shoulders in a strong wind. The scent of strawberry was intense… _so intense._ It made her skin tingle; made her legs weak; made her center throb violently. Harry reached down into the water, slipped a finger under the red cloth, and dragged it across the nub. She gasped at the wave that shot through her body, electrifying her every muscle.

Ginny's other hand was resting on her stomach. Harry flipped her magic back before the urge to grab it and grind it against her sex became too strong. She _really _didn't think that would go down well.

Shuddering in pleasure, Harry sat up and pressed her nipples flat so Ginny wouldn't notice her… pointy-ness.

Ginny moaned, reaching for her, pulling her back into the embrace. She was either asleep or half-way there. Her red hair was floating in the water all around Harry, tickling her arms and neck. Ginny's legs wrapped around her waist and she sighed happily into Harry's hair.

_'You'll always choose her over me. I'll always be second.'_

Looking at Ginny now, feeling her and breathing her in… a teeny-tiny voice in her head agreed with Ron, suggesting that maybe those two parts of the whole weren't _quite_ equal. Harry, however, silenced that voice immediately, beating it to a pulp with her mental hammer.

Ginny woke up about a half an hour later when her stomach gave a mighty Ron-sized growl. "Let eat. I'm starved."

"Mmm... me too."

"Mum made some cucumber sandwiches," said Ginny, untangling herself from Harry and standing up. "Stay here, I'll get them."

Harry clambered up onto the rock, laying back to enjoy the sunshine as Ginny departed for the house.

And then...

She heard it echoing through the trees; the strangest and most tone-murdering song she had ever heard in her life.

"-PLIMPY IS SLIPPERY AND OFTEN WET; YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ONE WITH THAT NET! A PLIMPY STEW IS MILD AND SWEET; A PLIMPY STEW JUST CAN'T BE BEAT!"

Whoever was singing was splashing upstream, drawing ever closer to her.

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH A PLIMPY ONE OR TWO OR THREE, PLIMPIES COME AND PLAY WITH ME. RAISE YOUR STICK AND SING ALONG TO MY SPIFFY PLIMPY CAAAATCHIIIIIING SOOOOOOOOOOOONNNG!"

During those last few extended and ear-splitting words, a girl came around the bend. She looked pretty… yet… _odd_. Her long scraggly dirty-blonde hair was as messy as Harry's, perhaps more even more so done up in what could have been a bun... but most likely wasn't. She was willowy and wore a Ravenclaw uniform that was obviously not her own. A Ravenclaw tie was wrapped tightly around her waist, securing her overly large skirt. The girl had on the oddest jewelry. Radishes... _real_ radishes... hung from her ears and a necklace of bottle corks was draped around her neck.

Harry couldn't stop herself from giggling.

The girl looked up at her. She had blue eyes of a shade Harry couldn't really define. They were large and gave the impression that she was daydreaming. The girl bowed to Harry so low, her hair dipped into the water. Her voice, like her eyes, was dreamy. "It is an honor to meet your acquaintance, Goddess. I am sorry to disturb you with my song. It is required for plimping."

_What?_

The girl slammed the large stick she carried down into the water. She reached in and pulled out an odd looking green fish with long pencil thin… legs. "For you, Goddess."

Harry took it gingerly. It was disgusting to touch… and yet enjoyable at the same time. "This thing is intriguingly slimy… and why are you calling me Goddess?" Harry handed the fish back to her.

The girl's face fell. "Surely you know, Goddess?" She dropped the fish back into the water. "One must address the Gods with the proper respect or they will smite your houses with their terrible wrath. I'm very sorry my offering doesn't please you."

Harry spluttered in shock. "I'm… wait… _what?_ I'm not a goddess!"

"Are you a water nymph?"

"Erm…no…"

The girl backed away, brandishing her stick. "You're a kelpie aren't you?" The girl opened her mouth and made a very odd guttural call.

Harry was so confused.

The girl looked at her with excitement. "What are you? Are you a new species of magical creature? Oh… Daddy will be so excited!"

_A… a creature? _

"What are you talking… No! I'm just… _I'm a girl!_" Harry yelled exasperatedly.

"_A girl?_ You mean a_ human_?" asked the girl, cocking her head in appraisal. "You're far too beautiful to be a human," she said matter-of-factly.

Harry stared slack-jawed.

_She's a bit... blunt._

"And you're glowing. Are you perhaps a Veela? Although… no… that seems unlikely… I've never heard of a Veela that glows."

Harry held up her hands to her face, turning them over, searching for a glow. "I'm not glowing," she said pointedly.

"Oh but you are! It's all around you. I can see it plain as day. It's certainly not of this world." The girl jumped up on the rock and got… _very _close; close enough to sniff Harry's hair. Her vacant blue eyes widened hopefully. "Oh my... are you... Mummy, is... _is that you_? Have you come back to us from the dead?" The strange girl touched her cheek.

Harry was surprised she didn't flinch away... but this girl seemed so... innocent.

"I'm Harry!"

"You don't seem very hairy to me." The girl's hand ran down her cheek and onto her chest. Harry was still rather aroused from earlier and she gasped as the finger swirled around the tip of her collarbone. "Quite hairless in fact… except for your gorgeous head of hair. Is that what you meant?"

"I mean my _name_ is Harry... Harriet Potter."

_Have I come back from the dead... wait... _

"Back from the dead..." said Harry slowly. "What did you mean when... Can you really see an otherworldly glow on me?"

The girl nodded and said, "Oh yes, Harriet. It's... _wrong_... somehow. It's rather alluring you know. I find myself wanting to touch you very much."

_Umm… _Harry blushed and said softly, "Oh, that's… well… I think I… I think I understand what you mean then about the glow. I wonder why only you see it…"

_It must have left a trace_.

Harry fiddled with the straps of her suit nervously. "What's your name then?"

"Oh my… I did forget to introduce myself didn't I? I thought you were a Goddess, you see."

Harry didn't quite know if this girl was serious or joking. "Erm… yes… I noticed."

"Well, my name is Luna Laurelia Louisa Lovegood. It's very nice to meet you, Harriet."

"It's just Harry, actually." Harry waved her hand dismissively. "Harriet is a bit too… _stuffy_."

Luna nodded. "To each their own… although, I find Harriet to be a very nice name. It rolls off the tip of my tongue pleasantly. Harriet. Haaaaaaaarriet. Harriiiiiiiet. Yes… quite nice. Do you visit this rock often, Harry?"

Harry shook her head. "No I'm… I'm staying with my friends, Ron and Ginny.

Luna smiled. She had very pleasant smile. "That's amazing isn't it? I know a girl named Ginny that lives just over that hill there. She too has a very good friend named Harry that sent her several letters. I read one. She was very nice and I thought I might've liked to kiss her."

_Kiss me? _

"Erm… I think I'm the Harry you mean."

Luna cocked her head and stared at her… hungrily. "_Yes…_ that does make sense I suppose. You know, you have very nice lips, Harry. They look so soft… and… _inviting._"

Luna's face was inches away from her own. Harry leaned back hastily. "Um… that's… thank you?"

Before she could say anything more, before Harry could stop her, Luna Laurelia Louisa Lovegood leaned forward… and pressed her lips to Harry's.

She gasped.

It was…

It was…

It was… soft; nice even.

Harry moaned, her back arching involuntarily as Luna's lips massaged her own. The girl leaned into her body, pushing her down to the rock, fingers sliding up her chest and tangling into her hair.

Harry's brain went fuzzy... until a tongue slid across her bottom lip.

_A tongue… A tongue… A GIRL'S TONGUE!_

Harry squealed, pushing on Luna's shoulders.

The blonde girl sat back looking disappointed.

Harry panted out heavily, "What… what _was_ that?"

Luna shrugged. "It was a kiss, I think."

"Yes but… we… we can't kiss!"

_Can't we?_

"Oh... why not? I liked it very much and I'd like to do it again."

"We're… _we're girls_!" Harry cried indignantly. "Girls aren't supposed to… to kiss other girls like that!"

_What about Dumbledore… he's… you know._

Luna seemed very distressed. "Oh my… I never knew that." Wringing her hands together, she said quietly, "I'm terribly sorry. I shan't kiss you anymore, Harry."

_Well… alright then. _

"Luna!" cried Ginny. She was trudging back toward them carrying the sandwiches. "Hullo! Nice earrings. How have you been?"

"Very well, thank you, Ginny. Just yesterday I saw a whole nest of Kerbudgeons. I should be going though. I'm afraid I've upset Harry here. I kissed her on the mouth," Luna said, her blue eyes cast upon the ground. "And that's against the rules, you see." Without another word, the girl picked up her stick and darted away down the stream.

"She… _she snogged you?_" gasped Ginny.

"I… yeah." Harry caught her breath and ran a hand through her bangs. "She just… leaned forward and did it. I… I'm still a bit confused."

"Yeah… that sounds like Luna. Confusing. You just have to let most of the things she says and does go over your head." Ginny sat down, placed the sandwiches on the ground, and checked her over as a doctor would. For her diagnoses, she said flatly, "You _snogged_ a girl."

"I didn't snog _her_! She kissed _me_!"

"Blimey, Harry... What- what was it like?" asked Ginny fervently.

Harry had to think about it. "It… honestly… it was weird… but… a bit nice."

Ginny gazed at her in disbelief. "How can kissing a girl be nice?"

Harry shrugged. "I… I dunno. It… it just was. Boys like it don't they?"

Ginny nodded and said slowly, "Yeah, but… didn't it feel wrong?"

_It did… didn't it? _

"I… yeah… no. I don't know! I can't explain it Gin."

Ginny held out her hand. "Can you show me… on my hand… you know, kiss like she did?"

Harry laughed. "I… I wouldn't even know how."

Ginny scooted closer to her. "Try! I want to know what it's like."

Harry took her hand hesitantly. Ginny was giving her the blazing look and she, of course, gave in.

She nervously pressed her lips into Ginny's palm, eyes locking on to her friend's gold-flecked ambers. Ginny giggled as Harry moved them awkwardly against her skin, trying to imitate the movement of Luna's lips. It felt very strange to be kissing a hand.

Harry opened her mouth as Luna had done, closing her eyes. Strawberries bubbled on her tongue. The hourglass flipped and suddenly… Harry was… _really_ kissing her hand. Ginny's giggles ended abruptly and Harry could hear the heartbeat in the redhead's chest quicken dramatically. Her own matched it. The taste of Ginny's skin was doing wonderful things to her body in her augmented state.

She had trailed passionate kisses halfway up Ginny's arm before the rational part of her brain realized what she was doing. Quickly dropping the arm, completely embarrassed, she flipped her magic back and muttered, "Sorry. I… I got carried away."

Ginny took her hand, squeezing it. "No, I asked you to do it, Harry. And you were right… it _was_ a bit nice."

0000

0000

0000

0000

There was a sound of thunder.

Ginny awoke with a start as it shook the house. It was still quite dark and relatively quiet apart from the pitter-patter of fat raindrops falling on the roof and windows.

'_Gin… Quirrell was… sick. In the forest… and by the Mirror... he touched me… touched here… and here… and he tortured me; bound me so I couldn't fight. I was helpless… and… and he was merciless.' _

Just from thinking about it, Ginny shivered and covered her intimate places with her hands.

'_Voldemort's eyes… they were… so terrible. Slit like a cat's and… completely inhuman.'_

Ginny_ felt_ terrible too for saying what she had said about Ron. She'd never be able to look at her brother the same way again. He was like some… mythical hero.

'_Ron… he… he sacrificed himself to protect us... so we could get past the chess set. I thought he was dead. He almost was. I was so… so angry. That's where I got my burns. I ran through fire to get at the bastard that as good as killed him. I depend on Ron so much, Gin… and Voldemort… Voldemort took him from me. And even then I couldn't really fight them. Quirrell just… just toyed with me.'_

Ginny reached for Harry in the darkness, needing her comfort, needing her strength.

'_I'm sorry I couldn't write to you like before. I was such a mess. I'm still a mess.'_

Harry wasn't with her under the covers, so Ginny dangled over the edge of her bed and felt around in the cot. It too was empty. "Harry?" she called out sleepily.

No reply.

Ginny got out of bed, stuck her feet into a pair of white fuzzy slippers, and left the room. The stairs creaked loudly as she descended to the first floor. Ginny found her in the living room. She was curled up in an armchair with a cup of tea in her hands, staring blankly at the wall.

Ginny climbed into the chair with her. Latching on to the grey men's T-shirt that Harry always wore to sleep in, she whispered, "Come back to bed, Harry. I sleep better when you're with me. You don't want me to look all puffy tomorrow, do you?"

Harry didn't respond to her joke, but did at least acknowledge she had heard by nestling her head into the crook of Ginny's neck. They snuggled in silence, listening to Ron's snores echoing all the way down from the top floor. Even with the snores, the house seemed quieter than normal. The ghoul wasn't clanging; Fred and George weren't exploding anything; Charlie and Bill were back at their jobs; Mum and Dad were actually sleeping instead of…

_Yuck! Don't go there!_

It was as if the house was reacting to Harry's mood.

_She fought You-Know-Who twice and lived… so who knows… maybe it is._

The small clock on the mantle chimed four.

Ginny had to find a way to stop this. It was _basically_ her fault. "Harry, if I had known retelling it all would make you like this. I wouldn't have asked. Please… be happy. They're both dead. You won. You avenged yourself, yeah?"

When Harry spoke… her voice was tired… defeated. "Voldemort isn't dead, Gin."

Ginny flinched. "Oh… don't say the name."

Harry groaned exasperatedly. "Voldemort. Voldemort! Voldemort? Voooooldemort. Voldeeeemort. Voldemoooort. Vol. De. Mort. _Voldemort. _Voldemort has Moldy Shorts."

Ginny had stopped flinching after the fifth time and said giggling, "Are you quite done?"

"Almost. Voldemort. Voldemort. Vollll Deeeee Moooooooort. There… done." Harry's chest heaved with a laugh. "His name is the one thing about him I'm not afraid of. It's just a name."

_That's better._

"So… if he's not dead… where do you think he is then?"

Harry sat up, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Hopefully, somewhere he can get struck by this lightning."

As if on cue, a lighting flash lit up the room through the windows, and a few seconds later, its thunder rolled over them.

"I like lightning," Ginny whispered, staring out at the stormy black sky. "I like the clean smell it leaves in the air."

"I don't like it. It's loud and-"

Ginny cut her off. "Tattooed on your forehead?"

Harry squeezed her knee. "Twit. No… I like thunder. I like how it rattles my body and makes my hair stand on end."

Ginny grinned. "Your hair does that already."

Harry moaned and attempted to smooth her hair. "Stop being so feisty, Gin."

"I have to be feisty, Harry. We can't all be Miss Grumpy-Face."

Harry snorted and finished off her tea, leaning back into the chair and sliding her toes under Ginny's bum.

Ginny giggled and asked, "Any more of that tea left then?"

"Yeah… still hot, I expect."

Ginny got up and padded into the kitchen.

Harry followed her. She didn't say anything, simply slipped her arms around Ginny's waist, leaning against her as the tea poured itself.

Ginny turned slowly in her embrace and jumped up to sit on the counter. "Harry?" she asked, anguish flooding into her voice, "Will… Will you fight him again… if he comes back?"

Ginny's gaze fell into pools of twenty different shades of green, pools that were staring back at her; weighing her; measuring her. Nodding, Harry confirmed her fear. "Yeah. Suppose so. I have to relay a message to him."

"Then… I'll be with you when you do; I'll be right next to you." Ginny paled at the prospect of fighting a dark wizard, but she would follow Harry… anywhere. "Forever and ever."

Harry leaned into the counter between her knees, placing her cheek onto Ginny's chest. "That's a long time," Harry replied happily. "I'll hold you to that, Weasley."

"And I'll stick to it, Potter," Ginny said cheekily, smiling into her tea. "Hey… let's go out onto the porch and watch the storm."

They left the kitchen with fresh cups of tea, heading towards the front door, arms looped together.

When a lamp beside an armchair clicked on, they both yelped, sloshing a good bit of tea onto the ground. Mum was sitting there, knitting away as if it was completely normal to be awake at this hour.

_Knitting… in the dark? Really Mum? You're usually so subtle. _

"Oh… um… hullo, Mum."

"Ginny… Harry," said her mother shortly. "I couldn't help but overhear your interesting conversation in the kitchen, dears."

Ginny could feel a rant coming on.

Her mother's eyes flashed and her voice inched upwards on the volume dial. "I'll say this once. Making pledges to fight You-Know-Who is not something twelve and eleven year old girls should be doing at four in the morning! You will both give me your word that you won't act on the pact you just made."

Harry fidgeted, but said nothing and Ginny followed her example.

Her mother swelled up and grabbed them both by the shoulder. "Swear it! Any fighting to be done, will be done by adults!"

Harry continued to remain silent.

Ginny took her hand and stood next to her… well… behind her. She had seen her mother in a full rage and it was not something she wanted to face unprotected. Ginny still winced when she thought of the time the twins almost made Ron make the Unbreakable Vow. Her parents' fury had been tumultuous.

Her mother's face flushed with anger and she directed her steely gaze at Harry. "Merlin, you're as hard-headed as your mother! You must understand, Harry, dear, especially after what you experienced last year! _Children_ can't fight fully grown wizards. To do so… you'd be throwing your life away. I'm not going to lose either of you because of a rediculous decision like this, do you understand? Promise me!"

Harry looked away from Mum, closing her eyes tightly. Her face disappeared under her bangs… as it always did when she was truly upset. Ginny courageously stepped out from behind her and planted her body between Harry and her mother. "Mum… Stop."

Her mother huffed and folded her arms, but stood back.

Harry looked up at Mum and said in a wavering voice, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley… I… I can't make that promise. He killed my parents. He'll come back. Dumbledore knows it and I… I can feel it." Harry grabbed the side of her head, running her fingers through her hair, pounding lightly on her skull with her knuckles. "I can still feel him in my mind; feel him in my scar. He'll come back… and I'll fight."

Her mother scoffed. "You most certainly will not!"

Harry sighed with fatigue. "Mrs. Weasley… I'm… It makes me really happy that you care enough to want to stop me, but I made my choice." She pointed at her scar. "It was made a long time ago." Without another word, Harry turned and walked upstairs with her tea.

"Come back here young lady, we are not finished!" Her mother moved to follow Harry, but Ginny stepped in front of her.

"Really… St-Stop it, Mum," Ginny said bravely.

Her mother whirled on her, throwing up her hands in ire, voice laced with that motherly 'I'm disappointed in you' tone. "And you! How could you pledge yourself to her like that? What if your magic recognized it as a vow, Ginevra? You know very well what could happen! _Forever and ever indeed. _How could I have raised such a foolish child?"

"Who cares if I did make a vow?" Ginny said in a stand-offish manner. "I meant it."

Mum's jaw went slack.

Ginny spun and followed Harry up the stairs. Once inside her bedroom, she closed and locked the door with a heavy sigh. Mum could open it with a wave of her wand, but Ginny thought that maybe her mother would take the hint.

Harry was already in her bed and under the covers. They had returned from the hospital six days ago and the cot had yet to be slept in. Ginny gulped down the rest of her tea and slid into the sheets. "Don't mind Mum, Harry. She's just worried."

Harry mumbled, "She has a point though, doesn't she? What if you get hurt? I… I wouldn't be able to…" she trailed off.

"Since I highly doubt You-Know-Who is hiding out in our shed, I think it's safe to say that tonight is not the night to be worrying about this." Ginny refused to venture into morbid topics once again. "I want to be the little spoon tonight… so budge over."

Harry giggled into the pillow and turned, pulling Ginny to her chest. "Okay. I'll bet you a Knut that your hand still ends up in my shirt. What's up with that anyway?"

Ginny shrugged and entwined their fingers. "Dunno… I like that shirt. But make it two Knuts and you have a deal."

The next morning, to Ginny's delight, her hand was not inside Harry's shirt… rather… it was snug in the waistline of her blue pajama bottoms. Ginny listened to Harry's soft panting that steadily increased in volume. She squealed when the girl let out a very long drawn out moan and pressed her body into Ginny's back, rolling them towards the edge of the bed. "Harry! Wake up! We're going-"

THUMP

They landed on the cot bed with a bounce. Harry woke, spluttering as Ginny laughed madly. "You're a terrible big spoon, Harry… and you owe me two Knuts."

Ginny watched with amusement as the all-consuming green of Harry's eyes was sucked back into her irises and her face fell into a sad smile.

Harry dug into her trunk and grabbed two Knuts from her bottomless money pouch. "Gin?" she asked quietly, handing her the copper coins, finally relenting after playfully pulling them back away from her hand several times as Ginny grabbed at them. "Would your parents let me share my vault with them?"

Ginny sighed heavily and flopped backwards onto the cot. "No… I don't think so. They don't even accept money from Aunty Muriel."

"Oh," Harry said disappointedly. "It's just… My dad essentially told me I could be a spendthrift all my life and the vault still wouldn't run out. I'd rather just… I just want to share it with all of you. Ron told me he uses Charlie's old wand… Everyone should have their own wand… you know?"

"Yeah… but we get by, Harry. And we're happy."

Harry scratched her head, leaving a large poof of bed head sticking out at a ridiculous angle, and lay back into Ginny's lap. "Yeah… I know." She slipped her feet into Ginny's slippers and her face softened in content. "Ohh. I like these…" Harry said, wiggling her feet. She turned her head upwards and fixed Ginny with rather large puppy-eyes. "Can I steal them?"

"No you may not!" Ginny poked her in the nose. "Buy your own."

"Mmmm I think I might have to… or else you'll find these disappearing a lot." Harry nuzzled her lap and smiled up at her. "I love you, Gin."

Ginny grinned and brushed the hair out of Harry's face. "Love you too." Harry's smile widened and she closed her eyes, shivering lightly. It happened every time Ginny said those words to her. "_You know_… I think you might just be saying that so you can hear it said back."

Harry giggled. "Who… me? _Never!"_ She sat up and wrapped her arms around Ginny, dragging her down to the ground for a fiercely tight hug. "I love you so much. I do."

That bit of her brain that told her she would never be good enough to be Harriet Potter's friend, screamed in agony as it grew a little smaller. Ginny breathed out and closed her eyes. "Do you… do you really mean that, Harry? I mean I'm… I'm nothing special."

Harry nodded against her neck. "You are too, times a thousand… no take-backs. And of course I mean it." Harry let go and Ginny sat back, staring intently into her green eyes, searching for truth in the words… and she found it.

Harry grinned and stood up, clapping her hands together and rubbing them in anticipation. "What should we do today?"

"We should probably go Snidget Hunting with Ron... you know... to make up for yesterday. It'll be more fun in the rain."

"Alright." Harry said as she wandered aimlessly about the room. "I want to fly afterwards too. I've thought of a great move… a little too dangerous to test out in a game though."

Ginny bounced up and pulled out a comb from her dresser, running it several times through her red hair. If there was one thing she really liked about herself, it was her hair. "I can't wait to see you play in a game. When did you say positions would open up?"

"Oh… um… Ollie will graduate next year. So we'll need a keeper your third year. Can you play keeper?"

"No. Ron's the keeper. You've seen him. He's great… when he thinks no one is watching him."

"Well, you both should come out for reserves next year," Harry said with a wave of her hand, fiddling with Ginny's Gobstones set. "We've only got Lee Jordan and Natalie Fairborn on the second roster… and Natalie will graduate with Ollie."

"I don't have my own broom. I use Dad's to practice with," Ginny replied sadly.

"Your birthday is November Second, right?"

Ginny gasped. "_Harry_! You can't just… _buy_ me a broom for my birthday! Mum would go spare!"

Harry gave her a coy grin and winked. "What Mrs. Weasley doesn't know won't hurt her. And I never said I was going to get you a broom did I? I just asked when your birthday was…" She marched over to Ginny's small bookshelf and scanned the ten or so tomes, most of them having to do with the Harpies. "I'd like to be on the Harpies, wouldn't you?"

Ginny squealed and took a flying leap onto her bed. "_Oh Merlin_… it would be a dream come true. Three of the players on last year's National Team were from the Harpies. They have the best trainers in the league. Harry… come here, your hair is making me cringe."

"Oi!" Harry cried with a laugh. She pulled out a purple volume from the shelf and sat down, leaning into Ginny's chest. "So who's Gilderoy Lockhart and why has he put little hearts all over the front of a book called Voyages with Vampires?"

Ginny laughed heartily and ran the comb through Harry's hair. "Oh he's such a ponce, but Mum loves to read his books. Every single one is a tribute to how fantastic he thinks he is. And you know, I read in there that he says he was fighting off vampires in June of 1987, and then in Troubles with Trolls he says he was fighting trolls at the exact same time. Makes me think it's all a load of bollocks."

"Sounds like a git." Harry turned the page and the ridiculously winning and handsome face of Gilderoy Lockhart was suddenly staring up at them. "Oh wow… he is a good looking git though, isn't he?"

Ginny sighed dreamily. "Yeah. It's why Mum is such a fan. I find myself staring at that picture quite a lot too."

"I can understand that… I mean… just look at his bum," Harry said, giggling as she shut the book.

"Trust me… I've seen it." Ginny held up a handful of silky black hair. "What should we do today? French braid?"

"Noooo." Harry bounced on the bed. "Hair loopies, please!"

"Ugh… again?"

"What?" Harry asked in a callow voice. "I like hair loopies."

"You're smothering my artistic talent," replied Ginny with a moan, but she resignedly pulled Harry's hair back into a loosely braided ponytail, then braided her bangs into two long strands, which Ginny let hang loose under Harry's ears. She tucked the tips of the strands back into the ponytail, creating little loops. Ginny had to admit the whole thing suited Harry very nicely and contained enough of her hair to give the appearance that it wasn't messy. She tied all the braids off with little, red, elastic bands. "All done," she said jovially.

Harry got up and ran to the mirror, flipping the loops with her fingers. The mirror, which Ginny had fondly named Martha, gasped and squealed, "Oh yeh look beautiful, luv!"

Harry giggled and spun to face Ginny. "Do you want me to do yours?"

"Absolutely not."

"Awww, come on, Gin."

"Nope," replied Ginny in defiance.

Harry stepped toward her, fingers twitching.

Ginny backed away. "Harry, you stay away from my hair."

But Harry had a mischievous glint in her eyes.

_Uh oh._

Ginny squealed and bolted for the door, wrenching it open and darting upstairs. Harry was hot on her heels. She threw open Ron's door and dove for him, pulling him over-top her body as a shield. "RON! SAVE ME!"

He squawked and flailed at the sudden awakening. "Huhwha! Whas… whas goin on?" Ron was suddenly sandwiched between both Harry and Ginny, as Harry tried to get at her through Ron. "Oi!" he cried loudly. "Gerroff! Gerroff you barmy besoms!" He sat up, holding Harry back, and extricated himself while he glared at Ginny. "I was going to have a lie-in today!"

He let her go and left his room, muttering about 'bloody girls' and 'nutty little twits.'

Ginny shrieked, squealed, and squirmed as Harry tickled her and trussed up her hair. She eventually just stopped trying and Harry cackled madly in victory, before she jumped off the bed and rushed out of the room. Despite the fact that she now had to re-comb her hair, she felt happy; inexplicably happy. She got up and made her way downstairs.

When she entered the dining room for breakfast, Ginny playfully gave Harry the stink-eye, trying to promise in a glare an abundance of knee-tickling as soon as they were back in their room. Harry shoveled porridge into her mouth and grinned at her, safely ensconced in a seat between Ron and Mr. Weasley.

Mum was still rather upset with the both of them, but her anger over last night was smothered with the arrival of the morning post.

Dad fingered through it. "Ah… Hogwarts letters. Here you are, Ginny. Ron. Harry. Percy. Where are-?"

A loud explosion from upstairs accompanied by raucous guffaws answered the question he had just started to ask.

Ginny's fingers trembled as she took the letter from her father. It was addressed in red ink with a neat and loopy scrawl.

**Miss Ginevra Molly Weasley**

**The Second Highest Bedroom**

**The Burrow**

**Ottery St. Catchpole**

**Devon**

As she read through her acceptance letter with glee, Ron moaned. "Gilderoy Lockhart! We have to read all his books? I'd _rather_ die."

In a rarely seen act of humor, Percy nodded, and handed Ron his knife. "Here you are then. And I have them too, actually. Father, this won't come cheap."

"We'll… we'll manage, Percy," Dad said, smiling and patting his son on the back.

Ginny could tell, however, that he was disheartened.

Harry squeaked.

Ginny turned to her and shook her head. _No… don't-_

"I'll pay for them, Mr. Weasley."

The table went silent. Ron was staring at Harry in shock, a piece of kipper half-way to his mouth. Percy's eyebrows were raised high above his horn-rimmed glasses. Mum was pouring tea onto the floor, completely missing the cup. Dad went stony faced.

Ginny slapped her hand to her eyes in defeat.

There was a long tense silence… and then the entire table burst out into loud simultaneous conversation.

"Wow! Harry that's… _Bloody Hell_… Harry, that will cost hundreds of-"

"That's most unethical, Harry. It's just not proper to-"

"Oh that's very kind, Harry, dear, but we just can't accept-"

"No, Harry, I can't allow you to do that. Weasley's don't take-"

Ginny sighed heavily. "I _told_ you, Harry! No one _ever_ listen's to Ginny, do they? Just once I'd-"

"**ALRIGHT!"** Harry screamed over the din and the table again went silent. "Look I… I get it. I do. But I just want to help. You've all been so good to me and… and I love you… all of you. _Please_… let me help."

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead. "I know you want to help, Harry. It's a wonderful gesture…it really is. But we don't accept charity or expect payment for-"

"It's not charity or payment!" Harry cried. "I… It's me _sharing_ with the only real family I have left." She put her head in her hands and her chest heaved silently.

Ron rubbed her back as Dad said slowly, "It's just a matter between what is right and what's easy, Harry. I'm sorry, but we just can't accept money that we don't earn from outside the family."

Harry let out a heart-broken sob… and vanished with a soft _pop_.

Mum screamed and dropped her teacup, which shattered with a mighty crash on the kitchen tile.

Ginny's brain went numb. _What? Where… Where's my…_

Percy gasped and, all his proper mannerisms forgotten, yelled, "SHE JUST BLOODY APPARATED!"

The room exploded into action. Her father pulled out his wand and started muttering over the spot Harry had just vacated. Percy started to flap around, shouting about the impossibility of an untrained twelve-year-old witch apparating. Fred and George came downstairs confused, but reveling in the general state of chaos. They set off several fireworks to celebrate the occasion.

"Fred… George… not now! Molly, floo Dumbledore," Dad said frantically. "Ginny…"

She felt hands on her shoulders.

_Harry?_

"Ginny!"

She snapped to attention as her father shook her roughly.

"Ginny. Your charm… which way did she go?"

"I… North."

"Alright… _A__lright_… let's not panic."

"How can we not panic, Arthur? She apparated! To Merlin knows where! She's only twelve! She's probably splinched herself!" Mum searched around the chair Harry had sat in, but thankfully found no body parts. "Oh the poor dear… the last thing I said to-"

"I know where she went."

Everyone in the room went deadly quiet, staring in shock at Ron, who had his arms crossed and was glaring at Dad.

"Ronald?" asked Mum slowly. "How could you possibly know where she went?"

He scoffed. "Because I know _Harry."_

Ron walked over to the clock and pointed at the hand they given to Harry. "I don't think any of you realized how important this was to her; how important _we _are to her. The second we put this on the clock, it spun to 'Home.' _Home,_ Dad. Harry thought of The Burrow as home. She thinks of us as her family."

"But why would-"

Ron cut him off angrily. "Bill and Charlie send home money, Dad! Harry knows that. When you said, 'we just can't accept money that we don't earn from outside the family,' you excluded her. Now… she thinks she isn't a Weasley. And maybe she's not to the rest of you… _but she is to me_. I know Harry… and you just broke her heart!"

_Oh Harry…_ "But it still says 'Home' Ron," Ginny said slowly. "Is she still here?"

"No. The Burrow isn't 'Home' for her now…" Ron spat bitterly. "The hand went to 'Traveling,' then went back to 'Home.'"

"The Dursleys?" gasped Mum apprehensively.

"No…" Ron said sadly. "The only home she has left. Her _real_ home. Godric's Hollow."

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Harry landed on her knees and threw-up as she exited the tube of flashing images and twisted scenery. She found that crying and vomiting at the same time was _extremely_ unpleasant. She grasped onto the little gate in front of her for support. The ground beneath it was familiar, for she had walked on it once before. Raising her head, a new wave of tears washed over her as she beheld the derelict two story cottage.

_Home._

She had wanted her home… the home she had seen with her parents dancing in the living room. This was not that home. It was overrun with ivy and its windows were broken. She could see that on the side of the house, part of the wall was blown away. It wasn't warm and welcoming. It was cold; _dead_.

There was a large sign next to the gate upon which she leaned.

_**On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, **__**Lily **__**and **__**James Potter lost their lives. Their daughter, Harriet, remains the only witch ever to have survived the **__**Killing Curse. This house, invisible to **__**Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family.**_

Sobbing softly, Harry trailed her fingers over her parent's names.

_The Killing Curse…_

_There was a flash of green light._

Harry flinched violently and almost fell back into the puddle of her own sick.

_Quirrell used that spell…_ _bastard._

She stood, shaking away the tears and memories, and pushed open the gate. Protective wards buzzed all around her, but after a moment, allowed her entry. The grass was knee high and the path no longer visible. She walked towards the front door, torn clean from its hinges, but stopped abruptly on the porch as her slippered foot met something soft.

Harry looked down. Sitting on the wood underneath her feet, was a tiny stuffed broomstick. Her heart gave an almighty wrench. She absolutely knew… deep down… that this little toy had been hers; that it was a toy she had lost; a toy she had loved. Harry picked it up. The stuffed twigs looked thoroughly chewed, and she had a very strong urge to place them into her mouth, feeling that it would bring her some form of primal comfort. However, seeing that it was filthy, Harry forced herself to resist.

The living-room was exactly the same, yet… _entirely_ different_._ The white shag carpet was stained a dark burgundy in large spots all over the room. Thankfully, whatever made those spots had been removed. There were pictures, but not of _her_ life. They were of her parents' life: their wedding, their honeymoon, their anniversaries, nights out at a pub, picnics, a beach, and her father and mother holding her as a newborn. Looking at her body now, it was a wonder she had ever been such a fat little ball of Dudley-ish pudge.

She grabbed every picture in the room and sat them, along with her little broomstick, on the least stained part of the blue couch. There was an old fashioned gramophone sitting directly to her left with a chipped record still on its turntable. Harry placed the needle on an undamaged ring and switched the machine on. The record's song scratched into life; it was a smooth jazz number with a steady bass line. She knew it; she'd never forget this song.

Harry walked numbly to the center of the room and rotated slowly on the spot where her parents had danced. She could see them; _feel_ them with her.

'_We'll always be with you sweetie and don't you ever doubt it.'_

"I love you, Mummy," she whispered to the still air, her voice hitching.

Harry's grief built slowly. It started as a little knot in her throat. Then, her chest started to heave; her eyes began to moisten; her ears started to burn; and her head began to pound. Then came the sobs. They racked her entire body, forcing her to her hands and knees. Fat tears fell from her eyes into the carpet, washing away a few spots of brown stain. Then came the silence. She closed her eyes, curled into a ball, and listened to the trombones that wailed for her when she no longer had the strength to do it herself.

"Harry," wheezed a very familiar voice. "What are you doing down there on the floor?"

"I'm…" _What am I doing? _"… moping, sir."

"Ah… I see." Harry heard his footsteps come up beside her and there was a rustle of cloth. She opened her eyes. Professor Dumbledore had lain down beside her and was staring up at the ceiling, twiddling is thumbs. "Oh yes… this is a fine place to mope."

Just like her grief, the laughter built slowly and soon she was clutching her stomach, laughing so hard she thought that her spleen would burst.

And then she was crying; great heaving sobs that deprived her of breath.

"Harry." A wrinkled hand gripped her own, providing much needed comfort. "It is quite alright. In time you will rise from this grief stronger, better, and happier than you ever were." The old man patted her fingers with his other hand. "I was at this one you know… Look, there I am, right… there. Oh dear me… I did have several glasses of Firewhiskey that night."

Harry sat up, still blubbering fiercely, and looked at the picture the Headmaster was holding. It was one of the pub pictures. Her mother and father and a handsome black haired man she supposed was her godfather, as he was in a majority of all the pictures she had of her parents, were clapping and laughing as the miniature Professor Dumbledore, who was clearly sloshed, danced a jig on top of a table.

Harry giggled through her tears and looked up at him questioningly.

He chuckled. "Ah… well… I had just found out that my brother Aberforth had been blessed with a Great Granddaughter. Even though we are not on friendly terms, I was quite happy for him… as you can see. You may know the girl, a Miss Susan Bones, who is completely unaware of her relation to me, or to her Great-Grandfather for that matter. It saddens me, but it was necessary to sever contacts… I'm sure you can understand why."

Harry nodded, wiping her eyes with her t-shirt. "I like your dance, sir."

"Thank you, Harry…I have received many such compliments from those who remember the night." He placed the picture down upon the pile and folded his hands in his lap. "Harry, may I ask why you apparated here tonight?"

_Apparated?_

"I don't really know, sir. When Mr. Weasley… Well, he made it rather clear I wasn't really… I… I just wanted to be with my own family… at my own home. And then I was here."

"And are you satisfied with this home?"

"No… not really. It's… empty."

Professor Dumbledore smiled. "Do you know where home really is, Harry?"

Harry slowly raised her hand and touched the flesh above her heart. "Here, with Ginny and Ron… and my parents."

"Indeed."

Harry picked up the little broomstick from the pile. "Sir, could… could you clean this off for me?"

Dumbledore looked at her pointedly. "I believe you know the Scourgify charm. Give it a whirl."

"But I can't-"

He cut her off. "Due to your recent encounter with danger in your place of summer residence, I have procured for you special dispensation to use magic outside of school as long as it is not performed in the presence of Muggles that are not your relatives. Surely you noticed that we are not being swamped by Ministry Owls screaming for your expulsion from Hogwarts after an unlawful apparition."

Harry looked down at the plush broomstick and muttered, "_Scourgify!"_ The dirt shot off of it with a little _poof_, along with a cloud of dust and several bugs that had made it their home. Harry placed the twigs of the now sparkling clean broomstick into her mouth and chewed softly. She choked back a sob at the soothing familiarity of its taste. "Sir… I assume this means I'll be going back to the Dursley's at the end of the year?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Why ask me a question to which you already know the answer, Harry? However, fear not. I have made several conditions for your return and will accompany you back to your home to make your living arrangements more hospitable. On the assured threat of living the rest of their lives as slugs should the Dursley's harm you even once, they have agreed to attempt to right wrongs and live peaceably. I believe your cousin even wishes to apologize. I will leave you several emergency Portkeys that will take you wherever you wish to go. I have also destroyed the cupboard under the stairs… which reminds me. I have a gift for you." He pulled out a long metal object from the smallest pocket of his robes.

_The Coat Rail._

Harry glared at it.

"Perhaps, Harry, you would like to release some of that frustration and grief with a much needed game of Explode the Coat Rail."

She grinned predatorily. "Yes please, sir."

Dumbledore created a shield around them, conjured twenty more coat rails, and started to shoot them into the air.

"**EXPULSO!" **she cried, picturing Dudley exploding violently.

"**EXPULSO!" **

"**EXPULSO!"**

The last exploded with a mighty boom. "Oh this is fantastic, sir. Thank you. Would you like to try?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I wouldn't mind a shot or two to keep my aim sharp. One can't be called the greatest duelist in a century if he can't hit a flying coat rail."

Harry levitated one of the coat rails and started to zoom it about the room furiously. Dumbledore took careful aim and muttered, "Confringo." A bolt of yellow light sailed out of his wand and slammed into the silver object, not only did it explode, but it shattered and then each little piece blew apart with bursts of flame.

Harry clapped happily and Dumbledore lowered the shield. He waved his wand and several more portraits and photographs sailed into the room from around the house. "Now… Harry. Are you ready to return Home?"

Harry clutched the many frames and photos to her chest, picked up her little broomstick, and nodded. "I think so, sir."

"Take my arm then, Harry. As impressed as I am that you apparated on your own, I do not think it wise to try for a repeat performance."

She grabbed his sleeve. The tube was less intense this time and when they arrived at The Burrow's front gate, she thankfully was able to keep the contents of her stomach. Professor Dumbledore squeezed her shoulder. "Farewell Harry, I shall see you at Hogwarts."

"Goodbye sir… and... thank you for coming to find me."

"Oh don't thank me Harry. Thank young Mr. Weasley. I believe he knew where you went before you had even left." The Headmaster winked and popped away.

As she entered the house and put down her things she experienced the strangest sense of déjà vu. There was a squeal above the many loud voices, a blur of red, and she was knocked to the ground. Instead of snow… they landed on hard earth. Harry groaned but opened an eye and grinned at her. "Gin, you're going to break me in half."

"Harriet Lily Potter! Don't you ever do that to me again… or I'll… Hey! You took my slippers with you!" Ginny rubbed her nose lightly on Harry's cheek.

"Sorry," whispered Harry, inhaling deeply. _I'll never get tired of strawberries._ "I brought them back though... see? I'll… I'll always bring them back."

Ginny lifted her head and her eyes sparkled. She knew what Harry meant. "Come inside."

They got up and walked through the house into the kitchen. After being checked over by Mrs. Weasley, patted on the back by Fred and George for creating so much chaos, and warned by Percy about the dangers of underage apparition, Harry made her way over to him.

Ron was leaning against a counter with his arms crossed, and a moody look on his face. However, the sour expression vanished when their eyes locked. Harry rushed over to him and sank into his arms. "Hey," she said tenderly.

"Hey," Ron grunted, rubbing the small of her back with his thumb. "You alright now?"

"Yeah… because of you. _My savior_." Harry kissed his chest.

"S'nothin Harry. I'll always… you know."

"I know. Thanks Ron." Harry tilted her head and beamed up at him. Ron ruffled her hair, messing up Ginny's handiwork. "Oi! My hair loopies!"

He grimaced. "Oops… sorry. Listen, Dad wants to talk to you out in the shed. Come on."

Ron grabbed her hand, Harry grabbed Ginny's hand, and he pulled the both of them out of the house towards the large appliance filled shed.

Ron pushed open the door and led Harry through a maze of broken microwaves, refrigerators, car batteries, blenders, televisions, and more. Mr. Weasley was at the back of the shed, sitting on a tattered beanbag, banging a wrench along the seat of her godfather's motorbike. He gestured for her to come and sit down, and Ron and Ginny left them in private.

"Hand me that crowdiver would you, Harry?"

Harry assumed he meant screwdriver and picked up the only one she could find. He used the wrong end to bang on the engine.

She was more than a bit perplexed. "Erm… Mr. Weasley? What are you doing?"

"What?" asked Mr. Weasley. Harry pointed to the wrench and screwdriver. "Oh… yes… percussive maintenance, Harry. A Muggle once told me that the only way to fix anything ecklectic is to hit it soundly or swear at it."

Harry giggled. "Sir… that Muggle… he was taking the mickey out of you. Percussive maintenance is a Muggle joke."

Mr. Weasley was horrified. "_R-Really?_ All this time… So… so what are these for?" He held up a wrench, a screwdriver, a hammer, and a hand drill.

"Well, you have the right idea with the hammer." Harry demonstrated the uses of the tools on bits of appliances around the shed while Mr. Weasley looked on happily, heralding the brilliance of Muggles and their gadgets. As Harry showed him how to use the hand drill on a bit of wood, she asked quietly, "Mr. Weasley, didn't you want to talk to me about something? Not that I'm not enjoying this… or anything."

Mr. Weasley chuckled weakly. "Yes, I did, Harry… I suppose I was putting it off." He ran a hand through his thinning red hair with a sigh. "I'm quite sorry about earlier. It was… tactless… as I can so often be. My sons did get it from my side of the family, I suppose."

"It's alright, Mr. Weasley. I shouldn't have imposed."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Nonsense… and I owe you an explanation. When you first visited us last Christmas, you etched yourself into the hearts of Molly and I. We know how much Ginny and Ron care for you and how much you care for them. When I saw you in that cupboard, Harry… I will admit I felt as devastated as I would have had I lost one of my own. You _are _a part of this family and this morning… I treated you differently than I should have out of my own pride and my own shame."

"That means a lot to me, sir… but… I-

Cutting her off, Mr. Weasley took a deep breath and continued, staring at a fixed spot on the roof. "My great-great-great-great-grandfather became a 'blood-traitor' the second he saved the life of several Muggles that had killed a witch of the Malfoy line. They would have been tortured into insanity by the angered family, but my forefather felt that no crime deserved such punishment. When it was learned that he spirited the Muggles away, the Weasley family was cast out into the streets, stripped of their status and money. Even though he was a good man, he was a Pureblood through and through; he was attached to the comforts of high society and wealth. To the family's shame, he thieved, begged, and conned to regain some of his former affluence. His sons and daughters made a vow to never follow in his footsteps. No matter what state of poverty a Weasley lives in, we don't steal, we don't beg, and we don't con to get money. All our wealth comes from what we earn and from leading good, honest lives."

He sighed lightly. "And that, Harry, is why I _myself _cannot accept the vast wealth of the Potters. It is I and I alone who would not be able to live with taking money I have not earned. When Bill and Charlie send money home, I send it back to their accounts unbeknownst to them. I'm a proud man, Harry and I have passed that pride onto my children. I don't think any of us could, in good conscience, dip our hands into gold that is rightfully yours, no matter how much you wish us to have it. I hope you can understand. It was never about you not being part of the family."

The little hole in Harry's heart slid shut. "I understand, sir… Thank you."

"And no more 'sir' please, Harry. You're making me feel much too old. Arthur, or if that is too informal for you, Mr. Weasley will suffice."

Harry nodded happily. "Do you… would you let me buy Ron and Ginny new wands? I hate that Ron uses Charlie's. It's holding him back. He's really good at Defense… when he pays attention," she added fondly.

Mr. Weasley was hesitant, but he nodded at the pleading look Harry gave him.

"Thank you, s-Mr. Weasley. Good luck with the bike." She waved and half-ran half-skipped out of the shed. Ginny and Ron were leaning up against the wall with their ears pressed to the wood. "Could you two be any more obvious?" Harry asked with a laugh.

Ron's ears went pink. "Harry, you don't have to get us new-"

Harry cut him off with a poke to the stomach and said airily, "Shut it, Ron. You're getting a new wand whether you like it or not. Now… let's go hunt Snidgets."

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Pansy sighed exasperatedly as she climbed the bookshelf's ladder. "Draco, stop looking up my dress."

"Why?" he said in that husky drawl that made her shiver. "We're engaged, aren't we? I'll be seeing you starkers as soon as we turn seventeen. Maybe sooner," he added slyly.

Pansy smirked and put the thick book of dark hexes back on the shelf.

_Definitely sooner. _

"That's not the point, Draco." She climbed back down and as soon as her foot hit the ground he pulled her around and slammed his lips into hers. The rest of the books she was holding tumbled out of her grasp as her arms and knees went weak.

_He's getting so good; so… dominant._

Draco pushed her back against the bookcase and bit her bottom lip lightly, whispering in a low growl, "What _is_ the point, Pans?"

Pansy's mind went blank as his mouth moved to her neck and his hand slid to her arse. "I… don't… _what?_" He grinned against her neck and started to trail little kisses and bites across her collarbone as he squeezed her bum deliciously. Gasping, she moaned out, "Oh Merlin… Draco… y-your mother… is… is in the antechamber."

"So?" He slid his finger under the strap of her dress and pulled it off her shoulder. Her left breast almost popped free.

Pansy tangled her hands in his hair and whispered, "Think with the head on your shoulders, Draco. Not the one between your legs. I'm not ready for this. _We're_ not ready for this. Don't want to end up like the Weasleys, now do we?"

Groaning, Draco slid the strap back up her shoulder. "Sorry."

His erection was throbbing against her leg and she grinned. She loved that she could do this to him, but they had their whole lives to explore that level of being together.

Pansy reached down and patted him through his jeans. "Good boy."

Smirking, he gave her rear another little squeeze as payback. "I've had enough of studying. Let's slip out the back."

"Your mother will be furious." Pansy spoke the words, but she wanted out as much as he did.

"Mother is far too full of wine to notice we've even left. Come on." Draco pulled her towards the dragon statue that concealed the secret passage to the grounds, but he froze as they passed a small glass case.

"Draco? What's wrong?"

"My Great-Grandfather's journal; it's gone."

"A house-elf is probably dusting it. Let's go."

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_It's too early._

Harry put her head down on Ginny's shoulders, hugging her warm body for support and yawning heavily. "Gin…" she said in a small voice, "I'm going to fall asleep on you… okay?"

Ginny giggled. "You and Ron are almost the same person, you know that? Better wake up though… you don't want to be sleepy when we Floo."

Ron moaned. "Can't I stay home? Hermione's going to make us stay in Flourish and Blotts for ages.

Ginny patted his arm. "Don't worry, Ron, we'll have plenty of time to _not _buy a full set of Cannons' robes at Quality Quidditch Supplies. Besides, there's a new _Adventures of Martin Miggs_ out. You can spend the whole time reading it."

Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantel-piece and peered inside. "We're running low, Arthur," she sighed heavily to Mr. Weasley. "We'll have to buy some more today. Alright, Ginny, Harry, you two can fit together. Waste not, want not."

Harry barely heard the words, just held on to Ginny and tried to doze standing up.

Ginny grabbed a bit of Floo Powder from the pot and pulled Harry into the fireplace. She threw it down and shouted clearly, "Diagon Alley."

Harry only barely felt herself spinning.

_Sleepy… sleepy sleepy sleepy. _

She closed her eyes and cuddled the soft neck into which her nose was currently buried.

"Harry, wait we're not-"

All of a sudden she was fully awake as pain seared through her ribs. Ginny moaned from a spot nearby. They had fallen... _hard..._ onto the reflective marble floor of some sort of atrium. Sunlight streamed through a large open doorway across from them, while a roaring fireplace lay behind them.

Harry groaned as she pushed herself up to her knees. Her glasses were snapped in two, hanging off each ear. With a flick of her wand, she repaired them and asked Ginny, "What happened?"

Ginny waved her arms dramatically. "You fell asleep in the Floo, you dolt! We fell out too early."

"Oh… shite."

"Yeah… shite… but… wait! I think…" Ginny got up and walked over to the fireplace. The flames were green. "It's an open Floo link, look." She stuck her hand into the flame and waved it about. "Let's go."

Harry nodded and stood, but something out the doorway caught her eyes. "Oh… Ginny! Wait! It's beautiful." She ran across the atrium and out into the warm sunshine, feet pounding across the lush grass of the enormous circular courtyard. A magnificent white fountain stood before her. Water levitated above it, dancing and twirling in great sloshing arcs. Behind the fountain was a massive white building with steps that seemed to go on forever before they disappeared between two of the buildings seven, large, marble columns.

The fountain was what fascinated Harry, however. The many long strands of water that sailed through the air unsupported, were weaving about in intricate images. She saw dragons, unicorns, sea serpents, gryphons… all shimmering in the dancing water. Ginny sidled up next to Harry with her mouth agape, staring in awe at the fountain.

Harry tentatively reached out her hand to touch the dancing water, but as soon as the cool fluid made contact with her skin… the images disappeared. In their place, the water formed two large interconnecting spirals, flowing and rotating in midair.

Harry gasped and clutched Ginny's arm. "Gin… it's… it's the rune."

_The mustard trail rune… the light on my arm. It's so… so… squiggle… no, I mean… _

"Harry… I don't… I don't think we should be here."

"No… you shouldn't," replied a wheezing voice from behind them.

Harry spun to behold a _very_ old man with lopsided spectacles and a magnificent snow-white beard. He was leaning on a twisted staff with seven concentric rings at the top. He had a toothy grin and his eyes… his eyes were old; _impossibly_ old. It was the face of Jackson Smith… It was the _disguise_ of Nicolas Flamel.

Frightened, Ginny mumbled, "Yes… we're very sorry, sir. We came here by mistake and we were just leaving… weren't we, Harry?"

Harry didn't answer her. She cocked her head and asked the man, "So you didn't go to Cabo then, sir?"

The man barked out a laugh and that same bone-shaking roll of power she had felt in the Hospital wing washed over her as he spoke. "Oho! Quite the little eavesdropper, aren't we?" In the blink of an eye, he was Nicolas Flamel… in flower-patterned, orange swim-trunks. "I did in fact go to Cabo, Miss Potter. I am _still_ in Cabo." He lashed out at her with his staff… and it passed right through her. "You see? I felt someone _physically_ enter this place and I thought I'd check in. And to my great surprise… I find two little girls, neither of whom are members of the Circles. Tell me, how did you find yourself here?"

Harry pointed back at the atrium. "Through the fire, sir."

"Oh my… that is most interesting; quite impossible… not for centuries… terribly interesting. Although…" Flamel's eyes flicked to the rotating spirals. "… making impossibilities possible seems to be a habit of yours, Potter. That fountain hasn't shown a single thing other than magical creatures in twelve hundred years. Now it shows the rune… it's been so long since… My My, _h__ow terribly interesting_. I wonder if I should tell you? No… no that would be most unwise. It could bungle things up for the two of you." He seemed to be talking to himself more than to Harry and Ginny.

Harry shuffled her feet, feeling completely at a loss. "I'm afraid I don't understand, sir."

"_No…_ you wouldn't, would you? Nor _should_ you, for that matter. Now… off you go." He shooed them towards the atrium. "Perenelle and I were just about to go snorkeling and I can't very well leave you here alone, now can I?"

He herded them all the way back to the fireplace. Ginny, still scared out of her wits by this seemingly-insane impossible-eyed man, grabbed Harry's arm, pulled her into the fire, and yelled loudly, "Diagon Alley!"

Harry was aware of it this time. It felt like she was being pulled down a drain, spinning rapidly as green flames whirled about her. It sounded like she was sitting in the middle of a gigantic bonfire, flames roaring and crackling around her, burning all other sound away. Cold hands slapped her face; bile rose in her mouth; her brain juices sloshed about in her head as they spun… and then… she fell, face forward onto wood. Her glasses snapped… again. "Oh for heaven's sake… _Reparo._"

The familiar sounds of a busy Leaky Cauldron met her ears; she heard Tom the Bartender tell a rather poor joke about trolls and small loincloths, which earned a raucous bout of laughter from the most sloshed of his patrons.

Hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her up, brushing her off. Crystal blue eyes twinkled at her. "Oi… where've you two _been?_ Mum's having kittens!"

Ginny sighed. "We fell out at the wrong gate, Ron. We… Well, it took us a moment to get back. It's only been a few minutes, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, well, Mum is being Mum. Come on, they're out in the alley." He led them out the back door and tapped the bricks with his wand to materialize the entranceway.

After Harry and Ginny had thoroughly apologized to Mrs. Weasley for giving her such a scare, the Weasleys made their way down the street to Gringotts. Harry could see Hermione sitting on the bank's steps with the tall, brown-haired, bookish-looking man that she recognized as the girl's father along with a tall woman that looked very much like a blonde Hermione. Harry jumped up and down waving, trying to catch her friend's attention over the heads of the families that were milling about the alley. Despite the fact that she had grown nearly an inch in two and a half weeks of solid eating, she was still too short for her hand to reach more than a fingertip's length above the crowd. She squeezed through the bodies and ran up to the bushy-haired girl, engulfing her in a hug. "Hello, Mione! Those books you gave me were amazing! I've been going through them _every_ night."

"_Yes…_ they are fascinating, aren't they? Especially the book that Professor Dumbledore wrote. I bought copies for myself, you see. Projection is especially interesting. These are my parents, Harry. You've met Dad, of course. Mum this is my friend Harry Potter." Hermione gestured vaguely towards the man and woman who were waiting nervously behind her, while her eyes were locked onto a spot behind Harry.

"It's very nice to meet you," she said to Hermione's mother, knowing exactly what the brown-haired girl was looking at. Stepping closer to her friend, Harry whispered in her ear, "_Yeah…_ he does look rather fit, doesn't he?"

Hermione's eyes retreated from Ron and she spluttered indignantly, "I… I have no idea what you're talking about, Harry."

The look in Hermione's eyes said otherwise. Harry smirked and threw an arm around her shoulder. "Right."

Hermione parted with the Weasleys to exchange muggle money to galleons. Mr. Weasley was, as always, absolutely fascinated with the Grangers and insisted that they go for a drink after returning from the vaults. A tiny spark of jealously flared in Harry's chest when she saw that Ron was just as fascinated as his father… except he was only interested in Mrs. Granger, who was rather attractive and extremely curvy. She was at most in her mid-thirties and looked even younger; she could have been Hermione's much older sister.

_Mione is going to look just like that. I don't have a chance, do I? _

Harry enjoyed the breakneck journey down to the Weasleys' vault, that is... until it was opened. Her heart fell out of her chest. There was only one galleon, a few Sickles, and a handful of Knuts in the small chamber. Mrs. Weasley swept the lot into her purse with a small sigh.

Harry was barely listening to Ron and Ginny's Quidditch talk as they sped down to her vault. Rather, she was listening intently to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's hushed conversation.

"-only have eighty-six galleons altogether. We won't have enough for five sets of Lockhart books, let alone Ginny's things, even if they _are_ secondhand."

"We'll _manage, _Molly. I'll call in some favors."

"Arthur, why not just let her?"

"You know why, Molly… I just _can't_… I can't take Lily and James' fortune in good conscience."

"She wants to be a part of this family so much. She _is_ in spirit. You're paycheck comes in soon… we can pay her back. Arthur, we need-"

"Listen to yourself!"

"I… y-you're right…"

Harry felt disgusted as she walked into her large vault which was filled to the brim with hundreds of waist-high, miniature mountains of gold, silver, and bronze coins. She covertly gathered more than she would have taken for herself.

_I'm paying for whatever I can get away with._

Ron was making a snow angel in a pile of gold coins.

"Enjoying yourself, Ronald?" Ginny asked.

"Immensely. Thanks, Gin."

Harry pulled him up and flicked his nose. "Git. Come on, new wands await."

Ron's ears went pink. "Really Harry, you don't have to-"

Harry cut him off with a laugh. "Ron… you were just able to make a snow-angel in a pile of my money. Do you really think I'm going to hesitate buying something you need?"

"Er… right."

Back outside the bank on the marble steps, they separated. Percy went off to parts unknown; Fred and George saw Lee Jordan and headed straight for Gambol and Japes; Harry and Ginny started to run for Quality Quidditch Supplies, but Mrs. Weasley caught their arms. "Not so fast girls," she said, pointing to a tiny shop door nestled between an apothecary and the Daily Prophet headquarters. A little pink sign above the archway read, '_The Witching Hour.'_

Ginny moaned. "Oh no! Mum, do we _have_ to?"

"Yes, you do. Now, march."

Harry gagged and flinched as they walked into the shop; gagging from the overpowering haze of perfume and flinching from the ridiculously pink color of the store's interior. There were knickers, bras, perfumes, lingerie, hoserie, love potions, hair potions, candy make-up charms, clothing accessories, hair accessories, purses, shoes, hats, jewelry… They had just about everything under the sun that was made specifically for a women. Harry might have been impressed with the shop if she hadn't been gagging on her tongue from the overly-sweet stench.

Mrs. Weasley made them pick out bras; Ginny in the B-cup section, Harry in the A-cup. She picked up two; one green, in honor of Hermione, and one white. As her current shoes had several holes, she grabbed a new pair. They were green with print snitches that actually moved. Ginny thoroughly approved of them. Rather guiltily, Harry also found a large packet of candies that were charmed to apply either pink strawberry-flavored lipstick or dark-red chocolate flavored lipstick for an entire week.

The witch behind the counter was wearing just as much make-up as Daphne Greengrass could smother on her own face… which was quite a lot. Mrs. Weasley walked up to woman and asked for the 'standard education course and kit.'

The witch led them into the back room, sat them all down in comfy pink armchairs, and flicked her wand, causing the room to darken.

The 'education course' was a bit like a Muggle film, but it floated in midair in three dimensions. It was a terrifying educational film entitled 'A Witch's Body and How to Manage It.'

Leaving the room a few minutes later, she felt completely disgusted that sometime soon she would start bleeding all over her knickers and had to stick a little enchanted ball of cloth into her folds to stop it.

_String side down. Yeugh… but thanks anyway, Mum._

Ginny moaned into her ear, "I don't want to do that every month."

"Me neither," she whispered, paying for her purchases.

When Mrs. Weasley went to pay the four galleon total for Ginny, Harry slipped four galleons back into older redhead's purse. Ginny was about to object. but Harry glared at her and shook her head fiercely.

They headed next for Tweed's Titillating Treasures, the only store in the alley that sold secondhand goods. Harry found several skirts, shirts, jumpers and pants of various colors that looked nice on her. The clothes weren't high Parisian fashion like Pansy and Cho Chang insisted on wearing. They were simple; basic; exactly how Harry liked things. It didn't matter that they were secondhand. All she wanted was comfortable clothes that fit and she could call her own. She also found a green belt with a tiny fluttering snitch on it, which matched her new shoes perfectly.

Again, when Mrs. Weasley paid for Ginny's robes, Harry snuck an equal amount back into her purse. Ginny whispered into her ear as they left the shop. "Stop, Harry. Please? Mum and Dad will find out."

"No," Harry muttered. "I want to do this… and it'll be too late when they _do_ find out. We might even be back at Hogwarts by then. When they try to pay me back, I won't accept it… just like they wouldn't accept my money."

Ginny sighed unhappily, but she entwined their hands and mumbled, "_Thanks, Harry."_

Harry did it in every shop. When only Ginny's wand and books were left, Harry tugged on Mrs. Weasley's sleeve. "Mrs. Weasley? Mr. Weasley said I can buy Ron and Ginny their wands. Do you think we should split up and meet at Flourish and Blotts?"

"Oh… yes, good idea, Harry. I should go find Arthur and the Grangers before he scares them half to death."

Harry and Ginny found Ron and Hermione _still_ in Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Honestly, Ron! What would you do with a full set of Chudley Cannons' robes?" asked Hermione in frustration as Ron ran his hands over the broomstick signed by Marcus Bode.

"I'd wear them!" said Ron indignantly.

Harry came up behind him and patted him on back. "No you wouldn't."

"Well… _no_… I wouldn't. But I'd have them to look at everyday, instead of once a year."

Harry bought new bracers at the shop as hers had cracked. Like many of the League Seekers, she had taken to batting away bludgers with her guards instead of dodging. It was more dangerous than dodging or rolling away, but it allowed you to keep your eye on the snitch. It of course had taken its toll on her gear. She also bought a Harpies poster to hang in her dorm.

When the four of them entered Ollivander's, there was a brilliant flash that blinded Harry's vision. "Oh wow! Harriet Potter! Can I have your autograph?"

"Colin! Leave that poor girl alone!"

Harry heard the bell above the door ring and assumed Colin's mother had pulled him from the shop.

"Ah…" said a familiar soft voice. "Wands for the youngest Weasleys, is it? Miss Granger, how is that Dragon Heartstring for Transfiguration? I've always thought it was one of my best Transfiguration creations."

Mr. Ollivander stood before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"It's quite excellent, sir, thank you. I have top marks," said Hermione proudly.

Mr. Ollivander nodded appreciatively. "And… Miss Potter. I see you have mastered your wand. That is excellent news. I was afraid my words might have scarred you too deeply, but you have learned the truth of magic, yes?

"Yes sir." Harry grinned.

"Excellent. I expect great things, Miss Potter. Well then… let's get to it. Mr. Weasley… your wand arm?" Ron raised his right arm and Ollivander walked over to a shelf, pulling out a long box. "Try this one. Willow and unicorn tail-hair. Fourteen inches. Nice and springy. Give it a wave."

Ron waved… and nothing happened.

"Hmmm, that's most curious. I thought for sure that would be the one. Come here, boy." Ollivander grabbed Ron's cheeks and pulled him close, tilting his face from side to side. "Ah yes… I see. A divergence… How very curious. Try _this_… One of my rarer creations. Whomping Willow and Ashwinder Ash. Ten inches. A stout wand, quite excellent for defensive magics."

As soon as Ron took the wand, a golden wall of mist erupted from the tip to hover between himself and Ollivander.

"Oh yes… that's the wand for you, boy. But… it _will_ cost you thirty galleons. It is one of my best. We _could_ select another _less_ suitable wand if your funds are not sufficient." Ollivander peered at Harry knowingly.

_Doesn't miss a trick, does he? _

Harry handed him the coins and the old man deposited them into an old fashioned register. "Excellent… excellent."

Ron was rolling the wand between his fingers. He muttered excitedly under his breath, "This wand… it… it _feels _good_._ I can't explain it. For some barmy reason it's reminding me of centaurs… _centaurs_… dunno. Weird, eh?"

Harry shrugged and Ollivander moved on to Ginny. "Wand arm?" Ginny held up her left. "This one… Holly and unicorn tail-hair. Eight and a half inches. A wand simply divine for hexes and jinxes."

Ginny went through at least _forty_ wands with no reaction.

Ollivander peered at her stonily… and then… he peered at Harry… and then back to Ginny… and then to Harry once again. Walking around the counter, he beckoned them both toward him. Ollivander grasped their forearms; Ginny's left and Harry's right. Their charms spun together. He stared and he stared… and then-

"How curious… I… I don't have a wand for you, girl," Ollivander whispered, his eyes almost glowing.

Ginny gasped. "_W-What?_ What do you mean you don't have a wand for me? I'm… I'm a witch!"

"Patience, dear girl. I simply said that I don't have it… _but I can make it_." Ollivander was overly excited. "Give me an hour. I must contact the Headmaster."

And they waited… and they waited… and they waited some more. Ron was moaning that they could be in Gambol and Japes but neither Harry nor Ginny were moving from the spot. Mrs. Weasley came to check up on them several times. She was incredibly shocked that Ollivander didn't have a wand in stock that would suit Ginny.

Harry's mind was whirring fiercely.

_Ollivander looked at our forearms. Did he see something there? I saw a light on Ginny's left arm. Was it a fairy? Or was it… the rune? He has to talk to Dumbledore… what does that mean? I'm in the mood for ice cream. The rune… what is it? Flamel knew… of course he knew… he's 1700 years old. He probably knows everything there is to know about anything. The fountain… what was that fountain? Why do I keep making impossibilities possible? I could really use some ice cream… strawberry ice cream._

Mr. Ollivander slipped back into the front room after roughly an hour and a half. He carried in his hand a light-brown wand, twirling it between his fingers. "Holly and phoenix feather, freshly plucked from the tail of a _very_ special phoenix belonging to the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Eleven inches. Very supple."

_That's… that's the-_

Ginny brought the wand down in a swishing arc and red and gold sparks shot out of it like a whip.

_That's the same as my wand!_

Ollivander fixed Harry with his piercing gaze. "Never have I made a duplicate wand… until _now_."

Ginny turned to look at Harry, mouth slightly agape. Harry had told her of the connection, between hers and Voldemort's wands; a connection that now had a third member. Voldemort, Harry… _and Ginny._

Harry pulled out her wand and handed it to Ginny, who gave hers to Harry. Ginny swished and sparks flew. Harry conjured a teacup.

It was _exactly_ the same wand. It had the same feel between her fingers; the same gentle warmth.

They returned the wands to their owner.

_Would it even matter if we traded?_

"I think we can expect _great _things from the two of you," whispered Ollivander rather intensely.

Harry was still a bit too shocked to acknowledge the old man. Ginny took her hand and shrugged, grinning, twirling the wand between her fingers. She echoed Ron's words. "Weird eh?"

"Very," sighed Harry heavily. "I think I need some ice cream to restart my brain."

Harry paid Ollivander the seven galleons for the wand plus ten extra for the short notice special order and they left the shop. Trying not to think on the oddity of the day's events, she bought them all strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice cream sundaes from Florean's and the four of them slowly idled back to Flourish and Blotts; slowly only because there was a huge crowd, five store fronts wide, in either direction outside the shop.

"What's this then?" asked Ron in confusion.

Ginny pointed at a large sign stretched across the upper windows of the shop.

**GILDEROY LOCKHART**

**Will be signing copies of his autobiography**

**_MAGICAL ME_**

**Today at 12:30 PM to 4:30 PM**

Harry snorted, flipping the hourglass back to normal as she finished her ice cream. "He wrote an autobiography? I read Travels with Trolls _AND_ Voyages with Vampires. There's more biographical information in those books then there is story."

"But _Harry_," squealed Hermione excitedly. "We can actually meet him! I mean… he's written almost the whole booklist!"

Harry giggled and leaned into her ear. "_Yes…_ because _that's_ why you want to meet him."

Ron heard her and gagged purposefully, pointing his finger at his mouth in disgust.

Hermione blushed fiercely and swatted Harry away.

Even though she teased, Harry had to admit that while Gilderoy Lockart _was_ a bit of a self-serving ponce in his books, she too was excited to meet him for exactly the same reason Hermione was.

They entered the shop and found the Grangers and the Weasleys halfway up the line. "Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley breathlessly. She was patting her hair and smoothing down her dress. "We'll be able to see him in a moment."

As the group anxiously waited for a glimpse of the man… Well, as the _women_ of the group waited anxiously, including even Mrs. Granger who seemed swept up by the buzz of feminine excitement, Harry saw a familiar head of platinum-blonde hair enter the bookshop. He found her gaze _so_ quickly, it was as if their eyes were attracting magnets. Draco winked at her and grinned that annoying grin of his that Harry both hated and enjoyed seeing upon his face. He looked much older; all of his babyish features now those of a young man. She didn't like to admit it, but… _he looks good. Not as good as Ron though..._ She smiled fondly at the boy who was swatting at Hermione as she tried to rub dirt off his nose.

A black-haired girl wrapped her arms around Draco's waist and he leaned over to kiss her temple. Harry's stomach gave a little envious lurch. She looked a bit like a taller, prettier, and far bustier version of…

_Wait… no… it can't be! Parkinson? _

It was definitely her. Even though the blonde ringlets that the little bint loved to bounce ostentatiously were gone, that same 'I'm better than you' smirk lay beneath her pointy, little, upturned nose.

_Ponce and Bint- Together forever. How sweet. She's probably erased any progress he's made towards becoming a decent human being._

Harry looked away and leaned on Ginny, hoping Parkinson didn't notice her. She really didn't want to get into it with the girl in front of all these people. It had been a long morning and she was far too bloody tired for something like that. The redhead, with whom she was once again equal height, took Harry's hands and wrapped them around her stomach. Harry sat her chin on Ginny's shoulder and asked softly, "Can we take a nap standing up?"

Ginny giggled and drawled sarcastically, "Yes, Harry, because that worked out _so_ well for us the first time. Who was that man anyway? You knew him."

"Nicolas Flamel," mumbled Harry.

If Ginny was shocked by this news, Harry didn't find out, for at that moment Gilderoy Lockhart came into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own winking, smiling, gorgeous face. The witches in the line around Harry all inhaled sharply.

Harry was looking at his eyes; his forget-me-not blue eyes. She didn't know why, but she thought there was something… _not quite right_… about them. She couldn't put a finger on it. Dumbledore said in his Legilimency book that '_the eyes are direct connections to the mind.'_ It was definitely not her imagination. There was… something in his eyes… something false.

_Well… maybe he doesn't want to be here signing all these books and he's trying to hide it. I certainly wouldn't want to be doing this._

A camera man was that was dancing around Lockhart, much like Uncle Vernon had danced around Dudley during his eleventh birthday breakfast, bumped into Fred and yelled, "Watch it, Scruffy! This is for the Daily Prophet!"

Smirking rather evilly, Fred placed something into the man's coat pocket while his back was turned. Harry thought she might have been the only one who saw, because Fred winked at her. A split-second later, there was a very high-pitched shriek, several squeals, more than several giggles, and a large overwhelming surge of laughter. The photographer's clothes had become completely see-through. He was essentially dancing around with his camera in his skivvies and socks, seemingly none the wiser.

Gilderoy Lockhart looked up at the screams of laughter and blanched when he saw the nearly nude man. Mr. Weasley gave Fred a very stern look, and tapped the photographer with his wand. The reporter's clothes returned. He hadn't noticed a thing.

Harry's eyes returned to Lockhart... whose own eyes... were on Harry. She felt her cheeks burn as the celebrity leapt to his feet and positively shouted, "It _can't_ be Harriet Potter?"

Suddenly, hands were upon Harry, pulling her away from the Weasleys. Ginny, however, was latched to her tightly and no matter what the photographer did, she wouldn't let go. The redhead swiftly kicked the man in the shins when he tried a second time. He hopped around on one foot, gave up his attempts to break them apart, and shoved them both towards Lockhart.

"Nice big smile, Harriet… and friend. Together, we'll make the front page." He leveled her with a wide smile of gleaming white teeth.

The photographer was clicking the camera shutter like no tomorrow and the flashes were making her woozy. She only just barely heard Lockhart announce that he was going to be replacing Quirrell as the defense teacher at Hogwarts. A stack of books was shoved into Harry's hands and she was pushed away from the flashing camera; back towards the Weasleys.

She stumbled into Mr. Weasley. "Are you quite alright, Harry? You look like you're about to vomit."

"M'fine. What just happened exactly?"

Ron's hand slid around her shoulders. "It's called being handled, mate."

They swiftly picked up the rest of the books they needed for school and when they reached the section with the hundred or so copies of all of Lockhart's books, Harry dumped the ones she carried into Ginny's cauldron. "A gift for you, Madame."

Ginny opened her mouth to protest but Harry whispered, "Honestly, Gin, we have the same bloody wand. If there were ever two people that could be peas in a pod it's us." Harry picked up another set of Lockhart books and walked to the cashier. "What's mine is yours… and I've decided to buy another set of books… just for kicks, see. And since we basically share everything, we'll share those two sets of books." She kissed Ginny's cheek. "See how convenient that is?"

"Wow Potter… didn't know you were a dyke," cackled a snide and pompous voice. "You just wait till Millicent finds out. Hope you're not a femme. She'll tear your cunny to bits."

Harry reddened considerably and turned to face Pansy. She didn't really know what had just been said, but she assumed it was bad. Pansy never partook in the physical bullying of Hogwarts students that many of the Slytherins so enjoyed. No… she was just like Piers. She would sit on the sideline and taunt you until you were in tears. Her favorite target was of course Hermione. Harry was her second and Neville was her third.

Harry spat venomously, "Parkinson, did words just come out of your mouth? I only saw shite dribbling down your chin. Go away."

Pansy laughed cruelly. "Aww, Prissy Potter got her _feelings_ hurt. Why don't you have this little Weasley slag kiss it all better? You'd like it, wouldn't you? You know, since you're a big lezzy bull-dyke and all."

Harry knew what slag meant and she knew Pansy meant Ginny. Her wand was out so quickly the girl didn't even have time to react. "Go away… _now_."

Pansy put her hands on her rather accentuated hips and drawled, "Or you'll what? You can't use magic outside of school. You'll get-"

Harry's hex slammed into her face and fat, blistering boils sprang up everywhere. Moaning, Pansy clutched at her skin and ran away in pained tears.

"God, I hate her so much."

Ginny giggled. "Harry… you… _defended my honor_. You even beat Ron to the chase."

"Yeah, well, I won't say I didn't enjoy it." Harry took her hand and rubbed it. "What's a 'dyke' do you think?"

Ginny shrugged. "Dunno."

"Harry!" cried an angry voice. "What did you do to Pansy?"

Draco was stalking over to them, face red and fists clenched.

Ron quickly stepped in front of her. "She taught that evil little bint a lesson that's what she did."

"Don't you dare call her that, you _filthy_ blood-traitor!" Draco yelled, lunging at Ron.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley caught up with them after paying for the rest of their children's books. They seemed puzzled that they had so easily afforded everything. Dashing forward, Mr. Weasley wrenched the two brawling boys apart and shouted, "Ron, stop it! It's too crowded in here for this! Boy, go back to your parents." He pushed Draco away from them.

"Do not lay your hands upon my son, Arthur," said a smooth drawling voice that reminded her of Draco.

Mr. Weasley let go of Ron and stepped out in front of his family, just as Ron had done for her. He replied in an icy tone. "Perhaps you could control him better, Lucius. I know how very fond you are of… _controlling… _people."

"Tut tut, Weasley," Lucius Malfoy said softly, stoic face falling into a small sneer. "You don't want to go spreading accusations that could… cause complication for you at the Ministry. I hear you've been busy as of late. All those raids… I hope they're paying you overtime?" Mr. Malfoy reached into Ginny's cauldron and pulled out her secondhand copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. Laughing under his breath at the state of the book, he muttered nastily, "Hmm, obviously not. Tell me… what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Mr. Weasley grimaced. "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of Wizard, Malfoy. How is your arm by the way? I hope it has recovered from that terrible business with a rather stubborn... _tattoo_... was it?"

Mr. Malfoy's lip curled. "You speak foolishly, Weasley. Perhaps when I have convinced the Minister that the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office is a waste of budget, you will be singing… no… _begging_ to a different tune."

Mr. Weasley was quick. Harry watched in shock as he drew back his fist and decked Mr. Malfoy as hard as he could in the jaw. The silver-haired man flew back into a bookshelf, which sent several tomes tumbling down onto his head. Mr. Malfoy recovered quickly, but instead of retaliating physically, he drew his wand and slashed it down in an arc. Familiar, sickly purple light shot out of it in slow motion.

_Quirrell… bastard. _

Wand still in hand and knowing that she could, Harry conjured a solid brick wall in front of Mr. Weasley, who didn't have his wand out.

Harry was horrified to see that the light cut into the brick for several inches and that the stone around the gash had melted. It was only conjured brick… but still.

_That curse surely would have…_

Every single Weasley, and even some of the onlookers in the crowd had their wands out, ready for another attack. Mr. Malfoy's angered face very quickly returned to its stony position. "You will regret that one day, Weasley. Here, girl… take your book... it's the best your father can give you… Come, Draco."

The pair left the shop quickly.

Mr. Weasley turned to her. "Thank you, Harry… Never would I have thought Lucius would… Well, anyway, I am in your debt."

"No, y-you're not," stuttered Harry, still extremely surprised at the lethal force of the spell Mr. Malfoy had used in his fury. "Surely he'll… he'll be punished for attacking you… won't he?"

Mr. Weasley smiled and patted her shoulder gently. "Sometimes Harry, it is easy to forget that you didn't grow up in this world. No… Lucius is… Well, there's no other word for it… he's rather _slippery_. I doubt an incident report will even be filed with the Aurors." He removed his pointed cap, using it to clean his glasses, and said to the group, "Let's head for home, shall we? It's been a long day."

Harry let out a small sigh of relief. _Finally._

That night, a rather chilly night for the end of August, the Weasley's lounged about the sitting room as a fire crackled merrily in the hearth.

Harry felt rather wonderful at the moment, snug in her new clothes and her Weasley jumper; so wonderful, in fact, that she found it slightly difficult to concentrate on the chess game that levitated above her lap. It wasn't the clothes that were doing the distracting, however. It was Ron… or rather… where Ron was. Instead of sitting on the other side of the board, he sat behind her with his head over her shoulder and his stomach pressing into her back.

She had always enjoyed his embrace; this specific embrace as she would lean on his broadened chest. But today, it was different… _better._ She pushed herself back into his arms.

"Give up?" asked Ron with a laugh, taking her knight and rubbing her shoulder consolingly.

Harry only had three pieces left to his five. "Not yet."

_I lost… but I think I'm going to sit here for just a little bit longer._

She let her head fall back onto his shoulder and entwined their fingers, smiling up at him. The way he had stepped in between Draco and herself… it just meant more than it had before.

_My savior… my knight… my best mate… my… very handsome best mate._

Harry dragged his arm around her waist.

Ron tensed, looking apprehensive and nervous as she stared into his crystal-clear sky-blue eyes. A butterfly flapped its wings in her stomach. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she slowly inched forward.

Ginny's voice echoed down the stairs from their room.

"_HARRY! COME HERE!"_

Ron pulled away, unclasping their hands.

Harry muttered quickly, "Oh… I… I'm sorry. I… I was… having a moment." She blushed beet red, got up, and ran upstairs faster than you could say 'Quidditch.'

_Oh God, I almost kissed him. Oh God. Oh Merlin. Oh God, I almost kissed Ron. I almost kissed Ron! He's going to think I'm barmy! He likes Mione. Oh god, Harry, you… IDIOT!_

Harry bolted into the room, slammed the door, and slid down the wood onto the floor. She tried to hide her heated face from Ginny, but the redhead seemed to intrinsically know what had happened. Ginny gasped and rushed over to her, urgent matter completely forgotten. "Did you kiss him? You've been ogling him all day! What was it like? Is he a good kisser? Ew... wait... no... don't tell me that."

Harry blushed even harder. She could feel its heat on her neck and on her shoulders; her ears felt like they were on fire. "I… almost did. I wanted to. I'm not… I'm not sure if he wanted to kiss _me_ though. He went all… stiff."

Ginny raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Yeugh! Ginny… _come on_… you know what I mean."

"Yeah." Ginny pulled her up and dragged her over to the bed. "Come here… look at this book I found in my things." She held up a thin black completely normal looking book.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?" asked Harry perplexedly.

"This…" Ginny opened it and flipped through its blank pages. "It's a diary."

"How do you know? It's blank, isn't it?"

"No… it's definitely a diary."

Harry laughed. "Doesn't look like much diary-keeping went on. Whose is it?"

"Well, its second hand... belonged to some bloke named Tom. But look, Harry… this is amazing!" Ginny picked up one of the quills Harry had given her Christmas last. "I've always wanted a diary, but Mum said writing down how I feel everyday is a waste of parchment… and well, you know… 'waste not, want not.' So I never got one. But then… this was in my books. No idea how it got there."

Harry waved it off. "The clerk probably gave it to you by accident… It definitely looked like it was his first day on the job."

"That's what I was just thinking. So I said, 'Hey, lucky me... empty diary,' and then I wrote in it."

Harry stared at her and said slowly, "Gin… this thing is completely blank."

"_I know!_ Watch." Ginny dipped the quill in her inkpot and scrawled into the diary.

_Hello. I'm Ginny._

Harry gasped. The words, like water in a sieve, sunk into the page. _Different_ words reappeared seconds later in a completely new handwriting.

_**Hello Ginny. Tell me... Who are you?**_

"Wicked," Harry breathed, amazed. "Is it… is it a joke, do you think?"

"I don't know. It keeps asking me who I am; to tell it about myself. Maybe it's a diary that talks to you; helps you work through your feelings or something… like how our mirrors talk to help you pick out outfits."

"Hey, _yeah…_ I bet your right." Harry jumped onto the bed. "Talk to it. See what it says."

Ginny lept onto the bed after her. Crawling into Harry's lap, she began to write while Harry peered intently over her shoulder.

_I'm Ginny Weasley. I'm eleven-years-old. Do you have a name or should we just call you Diary?_

_**My name is Tom Riddle. I knew a boy named Weasley once. Septimus Weasley.**_

Ginny gasped and scribbled furiously.

_My Grandfather's name was Septimus! He died in the war against You-Know-Who._

_**You-Know-Who? Tell me, Ginny Weasley… Who is You-Know-Who?**_

Ginny's hand trembled as she tried to write the name. "Here, Gin," Harry whispered, taking the quill from her. "Let me do it."

_You-Know-Who is a murderer. His real name is Voldemort._

_**Tell me... Who did he murder?**_

_Everyone… including my parents._

_**You are not Ginny Weasley. Tell me… Who are you?**_

_Harry Potter. I'm twelve-years-old and a friend of Ginny's. Who are you, Tom?_

_**I am your friend, Harry Potter. Tell me about yourself. Tell me everything. Why did Voldemort kill your parents?**_

Harry suddenly didn't feel well. Her scar was stinging terribly and her stomach was doing nauseating flips. She gave the book back to Ginny and excused herself to the bathroom.

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**Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page. Contains some NSFW content.**

**New art up.**

**Review! Ask me questions. I want to answer them.**

**looking for nitpicky betas- grammar specific**

* * *

Not completely happy with this chapter, but it's alright. Fun to write. I just have to take the time to edit it... someday.

10 Points to whoever can guess what random non-hp character I'm giving a shout out to when i say 'hair loopies.'

Connections are appearing!

If you're wondering about the failed wands… those are Ron and Ginny's canon wands. Why didn't they work I wonder?

Things I wanted to happen but may not have written effectively:

-I want to make Harry's feelings like those of a twelve year old. I'm trying hard to remember what it's like to be twelve.

-I wanted to show Luna's father in a state of mourning since it's so early after his wife's death. So it didn't really mesh with the crazy image of Xeno in DH


	10. Chapter 9: The Grecian

Thanks for reading everyone.

**Chapter 9: The Grecian**

_Hearts shatter apart. Souls burn together._

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Ron slid open the heavy door to the last cabin Hermione had assigned him to search.

"-can't believe you _like_ Neville, Vati!" squealed a voice with a slight Desi accent as the silencing charm fell away.

A similar voice retorted bitingly, "Just because he never played with _you_ when we were-"

The compartment's occupants, Lavender, Parvati, and Parvati's rather reserved looking twin-sister that Ron could never remember the name of, abruptly stopped their conversation at the sight of him.

"R-Ron," stammered Lavender, cheeks turning pink. "… Ummm…" She threw him a wonky little smile and leaned forward, folding her arms tightly across her large chest. "Hi there," she said heavily.

For some odd reason, Parvati and her twin burst into giggles.

_What's that about?_

"Oh… hullo. I just wanted to ask… Have either of you seen Harry or my sister?" Ron held his hand up at a spot just below his shoulder and said, "She's about yea high… bright red hair… freckles all over… amber-brown eyes? Hermione, Neville, and I can't find either of them anywhere."

The girls shook their heads, grins fading at his rather frantic tone. Ron sighed, slumping against the doorframe.

_Harry… Gin… where the bloody hell are you?_

"Ron, are you alright?" asked Lavender with genuine concern.

"What? Oh… yeah, I'm alright; just worried." Ron took a good look at the girl that Quirrell had destroyed… and restored.

_She seems okay. Good, even. _

"H-How about you? Is everything okay… you know, since…" He trailed off and felt his ears burn.

_Not a great thing to be asking. _

"Er… sorry; none of my business. Well, thanks anyway." He let the door slide shut and walked back down the narrow hall of the train. A few steps in the opposite direction later and the compartment door he had just shut banged open.

"Ron, wait," cried Lavender, hurrying over to him.

In a moment of what Ron would later call 'fuzzy haziness,' he found himself being snogged. _Thoroughly._

After a few seconds of devouring his lips, Lavender pulled away, blushing furiously. "I just… I just wanted to say thank you for helping Harry get him. I heard what you did down there. I was… really amazed. You're… _you're a hero_."

Ron mouthed a bit like a fish out of water, staring blankly at the girl in shock.

She nodded decidedly and rushed back into her compartment.

He managed to pick his jaw up off the floor to head back to his own cabin.

Even though Harry had told him she hadn't done it on purpose, Ron still hadn't been able to forget about the other day when she had almost kissed him; when he had almost kissed her back_._ Adding this on top of it… Well, it was making his brain ache.

Ron slid into the small room.

Hermione had returned to the compartment as well... without Harry and Ginny. As he sat down next to her, she sighed heavily and muttered, "No luck then?"

"I just got snogged."

"What does that have to do-" Hermione's eyes suddenly bulged and she screamed out, "YOU WHAT?"

Ron nodded and sank down into the chair, his mind reeling. "Snogged."

Hermione's face went through various expressions of shock, denial, disappointment, and anger before she flew into a rage and proceeded to scream at him at the top of her lungs for 'not caring about finding Harry,' and being 'a typical male.' Now, as much as he liked her singsong voice, being screamed at for something that he had had no control over was _not_ going to be one of the things that kept her angry at him for days. And so… he stood up, grabbed her by the shoulders, and pulled her into a hug, whispering into her hair, "Calm down already… it wasn't my fault."

Hermione beat against his chest, struggling to free herself from his embrace, but Ron held on tightly. He would have let her go had she still been screaming at him… but she wasn't screaming anymore… _she was crying_.

"M-Mione," he said nervously, placing his chin on her head. "What's wrong?"

_Merlin, she smells good. Toffee apple._

Hermione shook her head once her tears had slowed to a light stream and stuttered, "N-Nothing. I don't… I don't know why I'm..." She pawed at his chest gently, looking up at him with a trembling lip. "Wh-Who?"

"Oh… Lavender. She… Well, she was acting a bit odd and then she just... snogged me. I didn't snog her _back_ mind you! She said she wanted to thank me for what I did against You-Know-Who… even though we both know that was you and Harry."

Hermione, tears abated, touched his chin. "No… You made the biggest sacrifice that day, Ron. I-I thought you were dead." She squeezed his waist. "I missed you and Harry so much this summer. You're my… Well, two days together… It wasn't enough."

Ron let go of her and sat back down. "Do you want to come over next summer then? For a little bit… or… or however long you want to stay… or something?"

Hermione nodded rapidly and sat down next to him, her big chocolaty eyes fixed upon his own. "I'm sorry I yelled."

Ron shrugged, grinning. "Used to it."

"Hey!"

He raised his arms in defense and added quickly, "Only joking! Only joking! Although, we do argue a bit, I suppose."

Hermione nodded. "Recent studies show that couples who have light arguments generally have happier relationships than those that don't."

"Couples?" asked Ron, his ears heating rapidly. _Is she… Does she…_

"Oh! Oh… no! No no no no," she said in embarrassment.

_Five 'No's?_

Hermione continued, her tanned skin flushing red. "I meant it in… in terms of compatibility… for… for friendship of course."

"Oh… well, you could have sad that." _Five 'No's… honestly!_

"Well I… I didn't, did I?" Hermione muttered stubbornly.

"Why not?"

"Because that wasn't _the study_, Ron."

"Well, _the study_ is a bit of bollocks then, isn't it, Mione?"

"Just because-" But Hermione stopped herself short. Breathing deeply, she straightened out her annoyed expression and said to him rather curtly, "I assume you didn't find Harry and Ginny?"

Ron felt a little deprived when she brought their argument to a close. It was like she had ended a chess game early. "No… I didn't. I can't stop thinking about them either."

Hermione fidgeted and smoothed down her school skirt.

"What if something happened, Mione?"

Before she could answer him, the compartment door slid open. Neville slouched inside, shoulders slumped. "Couldn't find them anywhere."

Heavy sickening dread filled Ron's chest. "What if… What if You-Know-Who got them?" _Oh Merlin. Harry… Gin… please, be alright._

Hermione touched his arm lightly. "I'm sure they're fine, Ron. They probably just missed the train. Your parents will take care of them."

"Y-yeah," Ron sighed in resignation, "probably right." He sat back and watched the bluffs roll by through the window.

The train ride was relatively uneventful. Hermione had fallen asleep on his shoulder, Neville had gone off to talk to a seventh year about Herbology, Seamus and Dean had popped in for a quick gab, and Parvati had walked by the compartment far too many times for it to be a coincidence. Yet that was it.

He spent the ride thumbing through his chocolate frog cards. He, like all good collectors, had them alphabetized.

_**Gondoline Oliphant** (1720-1799) was a witch made famous for studying the life and habits of trolls. In 1799, she was clubbed to death in the Cotswolds while sketching._

_**Gregory the Smarmy** was a medieval wizard. He invented Gregory's Unctious Unction, a potion that makes the drinker believe that whoever gives them the concoction is his or her best friend. Gregory allegedly wormed his way into King Richard's confidence and thus made his fortune._

_**Gwenog Jones** (b. 1968) is the famous captain and beater of the Welsh all-female Quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies._

Ron's heart gave a little jolt as he pulled out the next picture. _You better be alright._

_**Harriet Potter **(b. 1981) is the first witch to have survived the Killing Curse, thus earning her the title "The Girl Who Lived."_

_**Heathcote Barbary** (b. 1974) is a rhythm guitarist for the popular band The Weird Sisters._

_**Professor Helga Hufflepuff** was a witch of Medieval times. She popularized the use of the wand over the staff and was one of the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardy. She gave her name to one of the school's four houses. The students of her house are described as loyal and hard-working. It is unknown when she died. Helga's portrait remains at Hogwarts._

_**Hengist of Woodcroft** was a medieval wizard. Hengist founded the village of Hogsmeade in medieval times after being driven from his home by Muggle persecutors. Popular rumour suggests that he used the Three Broomsticks Inn as a home and fortress._

_**Herpo the Foul** was an Ancient Grecian Dark Wizard. He is one of the earliest known Dark Wizards and his work is still a lasting aspect of dark magic to date. He is best known as the first wizard to hatch a Basilisk. Herpo is reputed to have invented many vile curses and is the first Parseltongue in recorded history._

_It's… it's You-Know-Who's magic… not hers. _

_**Ignatia Wildsmith** (1227-1320) was a wizarding inventor and the creator of Floo Powder._

They pulled into Hogsmeade Village and Ron gently tried to shake Hermione awake.

She moaned and whacked weakly at his offending hand, still clutching to the edges of sleep. "Five more minutes, Mum."

_Ha. I do that too._ "Mione… wake up. We're here."

Her chocolaty eyes opened halfway and she smiled at him suggestively, leaning forward… and then… her eyes opened all the way.

Awake, alert, and two inches from his face, Hermione let out a mighty shriek and pushed him back roughly into a wall.

"Oi!" he cried indignantly rubbing his head where it had hit the seat. "You fell asleep on me, you mad bat!"

Her face fell. "Oh Ron, I'm sorry," muttered Hermione guiltily. "I didn't mean to. I was just startled."

_Girls. Are. Ridiculous._

They made their way out of the train and over to the carriages. The second the horseless buggies came into sight, Hermione screamed and grabbed his arm. "Ron! Don't go any closer!" She was staring in terror at the carriages.

"What? Why not?"

Hermione danced around the clearing, pulling people away from their transport to the school. "There are monsters all around us! Everyone! _Stop!_ What are you doing? Can't you see-"

Susan Bones came over to Hermione and put a consoling arm on her shoulder. "Calm down," she said. "They're harmless. I don't think anyone here but you can see them."

"What?" gasped Hermione. "How is that possible?"

"My Aunty Amelia told me about the creatures that pull the carriages. They can only be seen by people who've witnessed a death first hand. They're supposed to be wonderfully gentle though… or at least, that's what she says."

_Hermione saw Quirrell die._

Ron put his arm around Hermione's shoulders and guided her to a carriage. Despite Susan's explanation, Hermione shied away from… _whatever_ it was that invisibly pulled them.

"What did it look like?" asked Ron with an arm still around her as they trundled up towards the school.

Gripping his shirt tightly, Hermione shuddered and pushed her body against his side. "Like death."

When they arrived at the castle and entered the Great Hall, Ron's sense of dread grew. Harry and Ginny weren't sitting at the Gryffindor table as he had hoped they would be.

_Please, please, please… be okay._

The sorting was agonizingly slow. When McGonagall finally reached the end of the list and called out 'Weasley, Ginevra,' no one approached the stool. The students in the hall started to titter with rumors and speculation. There was a small directed cough from the head table and Professor McGonagall walked over to the Headmaster. He whispered into her ear and the woman nodded, sitting down in her chair beside him.

Professor Dumbledore stood to give his customary beginning of term speech. "Welcome students to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am rather sure this year will be a most splendid one. I'd like to remind everyone that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students. Professor Snape would like me to convey to you all fair warning that should his hair turn pink at any point in the year, he will exact most serious consequences on the entirety of his students. I ask you not to fret over our missing first-year and her companion. She will be arriving shortly to be sorted. "That being said, I would like to officially welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockha-"

Girlish squeals and shrieks from all around the hall cut the Headmaster off as Lockhart stood and bowed with a flourish. Hermione was clapping avidly.

Ron glared at Lockhart.

_What a ponce._

"Yes yes!" shouted Professor Dumbledore, waving his arms for quiet. "A most avid welcome to you, Gilderoy. So, before we tuck in to our welcoming feast, I bid you all to remember: Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus!"

On his final word, the entire foundation of the Great Hall rumbled violently and split second later, a massive swirling pillar of multicolored flame erupted in front of Dumbledore with a BOOM. It was magnificent, the bluest blues twirled around the reddest reds. Orange danced with green. Pink sung with white. Ron could feel the heat of the fire from his seat all the way at the back of the hall. Song like he had never heard before echoed about the stone. It was a most beautiful and uplifting song. It filled his head; touched the fire of his heart; lifted his very soul.

And then it was gone as quickly as it had come.

Harry and Ginny, their windswept hair smoking lightly, stood in the exact spot where the column of flame had dissipated. A giant red bird sat on the black-haired girl's shoulder, trilling the beautiful song up to the ceiling of the Great Hall.

He would have been relieved had it not been for the large red stains that covered their bodies from head to toe. Ron leapt up and ran.

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"Oh! Sorry!" said Harry as her cart lightly bumped into the ankles of a businessman who was hurrying rather recklessly for his train. He glared at her as if she had just committed some terrible offense, but bustled off without a word.

For some reason, neither Ginny nor Harry had slept well over the last week and Harry was extremely tired; she could hardly keep her eyes open and thus, she was overly clumsy. She had fallen down the stairs this very morning, almost snapping her neck. A step had simply vanished and Harry hadn't seen the hole. Mrs. Weasley suspected it was the work of the ghoul, thinking that perhaps it had gotten a bit frustrated with the attic and ventured downstairs to make mischief.

Ginny too, was suffering from bouts of clumsiness. She had a large burn on the inside of her hand where she had placed it on a searing hot pan. Mrs. Weasley had healed it as best she could, but it was still bright red and slightly swollen. Ten minutes into their drive to the station this morning, Ginny had also realized she had forgotten the diary. Harry and Ginny had both pleaded that they go back for it. Even though it was Ginny's, Harry had become rather attached to it… and to Tom. Ginny would tell him about their lives as Harry watched over her friend's shoulder. He was a good friend… and rather charming.

Running _extremely_ late, the Weasleys rushed towards the barrier that led to the platform as quickly as they could, with Harry and Ginny bringing up the rear.

After everyone else had made it through the wall, Harry turned to Ginny and asked happily, "Are you ready for Hogwarts then, Gin?"

Ginny grinned in excitement. "Absolutely."

"Shall we run?" Harry grabbed her non burned hand and squeezed it.

"Yes… I think we shall." Even with dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, Ginny still managed to give her that blazing look that made Harry feel a thousand different good things at once. The redhead pulled her into a gentle embrace and added in a whisper, "For old times' sake."

"Okay," replied Harry softly. "On three then." She let go of Ginny and placed her hands on her cart. "One," she said with a grin.

"Two," said Ginny, turning her own and pointing it at the barrier.

Harry took a deep breath. "Three."

They ran…

**CRASH**

"HOOT!"

Harry flipped over the rail of her cart and landed with a nasty thud on her trunk, knocking Circe's cage to the ground. The owl obviously didn't enjoy it.

Ginny too went flying as her trolley turned over on its side, causing her to tumble into the _very _solid barrier.

Muggles all around them shouted in shock at the terrible commotion the rattling carts made. A nearby station guard yelled out to them, "What in the blazes d'you think you're doing?"

Harry groaned in pain and waved the onlookers away. "Sorry! Lost control of the trollies, that's all!" She got up and ran to retrieve Circe, who was making a horrible fuss as her cage rolled down Platform Nine.

Ginny was gripping her head as Harry returned and lifted up the redhead's cart. Amber eyes squinted up at her in pain. Harry hated seeing that look on her face. Kneeling down, she brushed away the hair at the spot where Ginny's head had hit the wall. A large black bruise had already started to form. "Are you okay, Gin?"

Ginny shook her head no and leaned into Harry's chest. She didn't cry; she just shut her eyes tightly and clutched Harry's green long-sleeved T-shirt.

Harry leaned back against the still solid barrier and muttered, "Why can't we get through?"

"D-Dunno," gasped Ginny into her neck.

Harry watched the station clock's large minute hand move slowly toward eleven. 10:58… 10:59… 11:00… An imaginary train whistle blew in her head. "It's gone Gin. We missed it. Why did the bloody barrier close? It doesn't close if you're late… does it?"

Ginny shook her head again. "It can't have… None of the parents would be able to leave. You can't apparate inside and the only way in and out is the barrier."

"What should we do?" Harry asked fretfully. "Wait?"

"I… I guess." Ginny replied, cradling her head. "Harry… this hurts so bad… can you heal it?"

"No I… I don't know how. It's not in any of the second year curriculum." Harry however, had a flash of brilliance as she said it. "I know something that might help though. Wait here."

Making sure no one was watching, she pulled out her wand and whispered, "_Apparo." _Several coins dropped out of thin air. She got up and went over to the convenience shop in the center of the station. The pounds in her hand looked and felt real enough. She hoped the store clerk at the front of the line would put them in the register right away so he didn't see them disappear a few minutes later.

Harry walked back to Ginny with a bottle of aspirin in hand. She sat back down and whispered, "Here swallow two of these. This is muggle medicine… it might help." The redhead gulped down the pills and put her head down in Harry's lap.

In ten or so minutes, Ginny was indeed feeling better and praising the wonders of aspirin and muggle genius. They settled on the bench where they had first met each other in order to comfortably wait for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Unfortunately for them, the barrier stayed solid. At least five hours had passed and no change. Harry removed her hand from the wall and trooped morbidly back to the bench.

"_I am hungry sspeaker. Do we have ssusstenance?"_

"I have nothing, Alice. I'm sorry." Harry was willing to use the money trick to get medicine, but she wasn't going to use it for food. She rubbed the little snake through her shirt and hissed, "We can fly back home for…" Harry trailed off mid-hiss.

_We can fly._

"GINNY!" she yelled frantically, rushing over to the girl sleeping on the bench. "Gin, get up! We can fly! We can take my Nimbus!"

Ginny awoke and upon hearing her suggestion, grinned widely, jumping up in excitement. "We can follow the tracks! Why didn't I think of that?"

Harry threw her arms around Ginny's neck and whispered in her ear, "Because _you're_ an ickle firstie!"

"Twit," retorted Ginny, swatting Harry's bum in annoyance. "Come on, let's change into our clothes and find someplace to take off."

All the stalls in the loo were taken and when one finally opened, Harry grabbed Ginny and pulled her swiftly inside. They changed as quickly as they could in the tiny space. Harry refused to wear her bra for the rest of the day. It was the most annoying and restricting piece of clothing she had ever worn. Sneakily, she placed it upon Ginny's head… Well… not so sneakily she supposed, seeing as Ginny had immediately felt it and growled playfully, "Take that off me or it's _the knees_ for you, Potter."

After a short search, they were able to find a small abandoned park in upper Islington where they could safely take off without being seen. Harry unlatched the hook of Circe's cage, then shrank and performed the featherweight charm on their luggage. While Ginny had spent her time talking with Tom, Harry had perfected the spells in A Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2.

Slipping everything into her pocket, she reached up to stroke Circe. "Alright, girl… Off to Hogwarts." The owl nipped her ear affectionately and took off from Harry's head with a great buffet of her large wingspan.

Harry picked up her Nimbus and mounted it. Tutting, Ginny slipped onto the broom in front of her and said cheekily, "I'm driving. You'll get all excited and you'll start doing loops and hairpin turns."

Harry chuckled guiltily and slid her arms around Ginny's trim waist. "Come on, Gin. Just a few barrel rolls."

Ginny grinned. "Maybe a few." She kicked off from the ground and they shot upward into the air.

Fifty feet. One hundred feet. Two hundred. Three hundred. Six hundred. They sailed up and beyond the newly built Canary Wharf Tower. They must have been a thousand feet in the air before Ginny felt it was safe to head back to King's Cross.

Harry rubbed Ginny's stomach and yelled out over the wind, "Don't go down too low… I can find the tracks if I augment I think. They're scarlet after all. I'll be able to pick them out."

She flipped the Hourglass.

Ginny's sweet-smelling strawberry hair beat against her face like hammer blows as it whipped in the wind; the lining of the redhead's knickers brushed against the fabric of her own; Harry's center rubbed against the shaft of the broomstick. Everything was arousing her immensely and she needed to find the tracks quickly, before she lost control. She scanned the ground that was inches from her face as heat built between her legs quicker than it ever had before. "I see them," panted Harry heavily spotting a long stretch of scarlet. "That way."

Ginny shot off in the direction Harry pointed.

Harry came hard as the broom lurched beneath her. She closed her eyes and pressed herself against Ginny's back, trying to stay as silent as possible as she rode out the blissful explosion. Strawberries danced on the tip of her tongue, her face flushing red as wave after wave pulsed through her body. A little moan escaped her lips, falling into Ginny's blouse. "Gi… R-Ron."

"What?" shouted Ginny above the wind.

"N-Nothing," Harry yelled back to her. "I… I said go faster." Shaking her head, she returned her magic to her core, her body still shuddering from the aftermath.

They flew for hours and the sun was beginning to set, it's bottom edge hovering on the edge of the horizon. "Gin," mumbled Harry. "Let's land and put robes and cloaks on. I'm freezing and we'll have to fly low anyway to see the tracks in the dark."

Ginny nodded and dove slowly down to land in a nearby forest.

"Do you think the train is at school yet?" asked Ginny sadly as she pulled on her robe. "Will I miss the sorting?"

Harry shrugged her own robe on and re-shrank their trunks. "The train arrived last time right when it went dark. So they should be there by now," she said, gesturing up at the now dark blue sky. "I'm sure the hat can still sort you though even if we do…" Harry trailed off. She was sure it had not been her imagination. Two tennis-ball sized green eyes had been staring out at them from the bushes.

"Dobby," she breathed.

Then, it made sense.

_House elves are powerful. I'd bet my broomstick he did it._

"Dobby?" asked Ginny confusedly.

Harry pointed towards the bushes. "I just saw him! He must have closed the barrier. He's trying to stop me from going back!"

Ginny gasped and pulled out her wand, shouting into the night sky, "Dobby! Come out here!"

There was a moment of silence… and then…

CRACK

It wasn't, however, the sound of Dobby appearing into view.

It was the rather nasty sound of wood splitting in twain.

Harry saw the movement in the darkness. "NO! GINNY! MOVE!"

Ginny's eyes widened at the shout… but she stood still.

Harry dove for her as the thick tree fell in slow motion. She flew into Ginny and they tumbled backwards, feet brushing the side of the falling trunk as it crashed down into the undergrowth with a mighty boom.

A tiny breathy voice whispered in her ear, "Thanks, Harry."

Harry nuzzled Ginny's neck. "Move next time, you big dolt."

They both jumped as a squeaky high pitched voice cried out into the night, "Harry Potter must not go back to school!"

CRACK

Harry gasped as another tree fell towards them. A mighty gust of wind blew across the small clearing towards the tree. She saw it slow in its descent... and then it fell sideways; away from them.

Harry picked up her broom and cried, "DOBBY, STOP THIS! YOU'LL KILL US!"

CRACK

This time, Dobby popped into existence at her feet. His ears were bloody and he had bruises all over his body, obviously from punishing himself. "Harry Potter… must not… go back... to school," the elf wheezed, "`Tis not safe. Dobby must hurt Harry Potter so she will be sent home."

CRACK

The elf disappeared.

CRACKLECRUNCHCRACK

A massive tree, its trunk the width of ten human bodies, split at the base. It tipped ominously…

Pulse racing, Harry grabbed hold of Ginny's hand. Knowing that she could do it… that she had done it before… she disapparated with a loud _pop_.

When she reappeared, she was only thirty feet away.

Ginny, however, was not with her.

And neither… was Harry's right arm.

Blood splashed down Harry's side in crimson torrents and she fell to the ground, screaming in pain and denial; in pain as both her shoulder and her missing arm, still clutched in Ginny's hand, sent waves of agony to her brain; in denial as the tree fell upon Ginny.

_My Ginny._

Amber eyes locked onto her own, blazing with... _with everything._ It was as if time itself had frozen; frozen for forever and ever. She had a lifetime to gaze into those bright gold-flecked orbs.

Harry heard the most beautiful song; a song lamenting her Ginny; a song singing the praises of her life in the split-second the redhead had left before she was crushed.

But that split-second turned into a second.

And that second turned into another second… and another… and another.

Amber eyes still stared back at her.

Looking up, Harry saw that the tree really _had_ frozen… just inches above Ginny's head! And the song… that beautiful song… _was real_. It was coming from somewhere above the trunk. The massive tree flew through the air and dropped a few hundred feet away. Harry was absolutely astonished when she saw what was carrying it. Fawkes, Dumbledore's loyal phoenix, the phoenix of their wands, had caught the tree with its talons. It trilled its beautiful song and soared back to them, landing on Harry's shoulder that lacked an arm. It pecked her on the head sharply, pointing with a talon to her dismembered arm. Then, it squeezed her shoulder and pecked her on the head again.

Harry got the point. "Gin," she whispered, wincing with the terrible pain. "I need my arm… I think he can heal it… can't you, Fawkes?"

Fawkes gave her a look that clearly said, 'Of course I can, you silly twat.'

Ginny sprinted to her, clutching Harry's arm tightly. She held it to Harry's body and they both watched in amazement as Fawkes cried tears onto the rather horrific wound.

Her arm reattached itself, the bone and flesh sliding together smoothly.

When the arm was once again _astoundingly _functional, Harry pulled Ginny into a vice-grip hug.

Ginny's belly heaved against Harry's as sobs wracked her body.

Harry clung to her for dear life. It felt as if the redhead could slip away like a bar of soap between her hands.

_She almost had. Oh Ginny._

Words couldn't describe how grateful she was to the phoenix; to Dumbledore.

CRACK

_Another tree!_

Talons latched onto Harry's shirt and all of a sudden, beautifully impossible flames swirled around her, licking her body, healing her aches and pains, restoring her blood, restoring her calm, and restoring her happiness.

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The soothing flame cleared and Ginny found herself in a large brightly lit room, standing directly in front of a long table, behind which sat twenty or so witches and wizards, two of whom she recognized: Albus Dumbledore and Gilderoy Lockhart. A sea of a few hundred teenagers sat behind her, all deathly quiet.

_Hogwarts._

Ginny looked up at the ceiling of the Great Hall; up at the night sky she had just been lying under moments ago.

A girl screamed.

The hall erupted with shouts and excited chatter.

A heavy body crushed into her.

A pair of arms wrapped around her tightly.

"What the bloody hell happened? Why are you both covered in blood?" said a voice in her ear.

Ginny groaned. "Get off, Ron. I'm fine. Hug Harry... she went all… armless."

"Yeah," said Harry. "Hug me."

He did just that.

Professor Dumbledore stood and cleared his throat, the sound of which, amazingly, carried over the noise of all the students in the hall. They quieted quickly. The Headmaster nodded in appreciation and said softly, "I believe we have one more student to sort. Miss. Potter, Mr. Weasley, if you would take your seats?" He flicked his wand and the blood on their clothes vanished instantly.

Harry squeezed Ginny's shoulder and went to sit with Ron and Hermione.

The Sorting Hat was much too large for her head. It sank all the way down to rest on the bridge of her nose.

"_Didn't I sort you already, girl?"_

_Who's there? Who said that?_

"_I did of course."_

_Who are you?_

"_I rest upon your head."_

_Oh, is this how it's done then? Well, I'm new… never been sorted._

"_I was sure I had… oh my… oh yes… I see. How odd. How exceedingly odd."_

_What's odd?_

"_Nothing to be concerned about, my dear. Just put it out of your mind… Ahaa! Do you get my joke? Now… there's only one place for you, Ginevra Weasley. It has to be _GRYFFINDOR!"

Ginny heard Harry's squeaky cheer above the deafening roar of the Gryffindor table. She pulled the hat off and ran to her, smothering her in a hug the second she sat down. Ron gave her a rather unpleasant knuckle rub on her head, Fred and George shot off Fillibuster's Fireworks, and Percy shook her hand thoroughly. Ginny sighed happily, leaning against Harry's shoulder as the story that accompanied their miraculous fiery appearance was spread across the entire Gryffindor table and, by the intrigued looks she was getting from other tables, most likely across the rest of the hall.

"Apparated, wow Harry that's-"

"What does splinching feel-"

"I wish we could all fly instead of-"

"-the barrier closed you say? How-"

Harry was far more popular than she'd imagined. The girl didn't seem like the 'popular' type… and she wasn't, really, but people seemed to be drawn to her nonetheless.

_That's being famous Harry Potter, I suppose._

Dinner was so good, it almost made her forget that she had been a hand's width away from dying. That elf had been fanatical enough in its effort to 'save Harry' that it didn't realize that it was going to end up killing her and the people around her.

_Well, when it comes back… I'll bloody tell it who's boss._

Colin, the boy they had met briefly in the wand shop, was taking pictures of them and talking so rapidly that his words slurred together into gibberish. His face was turning red.

She put her hand on the boy's shoulder and said with a giggle, "Breathe."

He closed his mouth and nodded rapidly, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

On the way up to the Gryffindor common room, she listened to Hermione's very long-winded explanation of why the staircases moved with a half-smile on her face. Although Ginny had only met the girl twice, Harry and Ron had talked of Hermione so much that she almost knew her as well as she knew her own foot. Hermione had taken to her too, she thought. They had got on rather well at both Harry's party and in Diagon Alley. They both shared a rather intense love for strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice cream. It was like they were friends by extension through Harry and Ron… which was nice.

Her elated feelings vanished, however, when she reached the first year girls' dormitory. It was half the size of Harry's dorm… and had only one bed.

"Yes," said Hermione sadly, peeking into the room. "You missed that bit. All the rest of your classmates are boys. There are six of them. Colin Creevey, Richard Coote, James Peakes, Jack Sloper, Andrew Kirke, and Terrance Fogharty."

Harry laughed and pulled out Ginny's things from her pocket. "How on earth did you remember that, Mione?"

"Do you _really_ need to ask that, Harry?" said Hermione with an eyebrow raised.

"Er… no, suppose not. Gin… once you unpack, come across the hall with us."

Harry and Hermione left for their dorm and Ginny plopped down on the bed, feeling slightly depressed at her lack of company.

_At least I have privacy and my own bathroom… and I always have Harry._

_Do you?_ asked an annoying voice. _How can you possibly be good enough for Harry Potter. You saw her at dinner. She's probably the most well liked girl in Gryffindor. What do you have that she can't find elsewhere?_

_She's my best friend! I love her! _

_So do they,_ the voice said snidely.

_She loves me!_

The little voice was cowed… for the moment.

Ginny was throwing her things haphazardly into the little chest of drawers and desk, when her hand fell upon the smooth black leather of the diary. She had a sudden urge to tell Tom everything that had happened that day, to tell him how she felt about Harry pushing her aside for someone better.

Taking out a quill, she lay down on the bed and began to write.

_Hello, Tom._

_**Hello, Ginny Weasley.**_

_Guess what? I'm in Gryffindor!_

_**That is commendable.**_

_What house were you in Tom?_

_**I was in Ravenclaw.**_

_Tom? Can I ask you a question? _

_**I cannot stop you.**_

_Have you ever felt like you're not good enough for someone?_

_**No.**_

Ginny found that reply rather strange. Tom had always been very…agreeing.

_Do you think I'm good enough to be Harry's friend?_

_**Why would you not be? Self-doubt is weakness.**_

_Well… she's famous. And popular. And smart. And beautiful I suppose… I saw at least four boys at dinner that missed their mouths with their forks as they stared at her._

_**Tell me… Why is she famous?**_

_For defeating You-Know-Who when she was a baby of course! And she did it again just last year. __He tried to come back you see._ Everyone thought he was dead... but he apparently wasn't. 

The diary didn't have a reply.

_Tom?_

Harry burst into the room and jumped onto Ginny's lap. "How long could it possibly take to unpack, Gin? I know you don't fold laundry." She rolled off of her and buried herself within the covers of the four-poster. "Ready for bed?"

Ginny giggled at Harry's twinkling green eyes playfully peeking out from the coverlet. "Are we sleeping together still?"

"Don't see why not. No rules against it. We both sleep better together. Why fix something that isn't broken? A month of good sleep with you has made up for a lifetime of sleep in a cupboard with a coat rail." Harry reached out to her and Ginny slipped under the covers as well. "Your feet are cold," muttered Harry with a shiver. "Body-heat thief.

Ginny giggled and purposefully tangled their legs together. "You stole my bacon this morning. It's only fair."

"I needed it," Harry mumbled obstinately, grabbing her arm and pulling it around her.

"Bollocks…" replied Ginny, whispering into her neck. "… piggy."

Harry laughed and squeezed her thigh. "Go to sleep, you silly bugger.

"I'm not really tired…" she said softly. "Nearly dying gives you a lot of energy."

Harry stiffened. "I swear, the next time I see Dobby, he's going to see the not-so-wonderful side of Harry Potter." She turned over to face her, emerald pools filled with anguish. "I almost lost you, Ginny."

"But you didn't," whispered Ginny daintily, tweaking Harry's nose. The black haired girl let out a little satisfied grunt and Ginny couldn't help but grin. "Hey… can we go exploring under your cloak? I want to see the castle."

Harry moaned, "I'm sleepy."

Ginny shook the girl cajolingly and leveled her with her very best large puppy-dog eyes. "_Please,_ Harry?"

Harry smiled and stuffed her head into the pillow. "Why can't I say no to you?"

"Because you love me?" asked Ginny.

"Oh yeah. I forgot."

"Git."

The castle was quiet as they snuck out of the portrait hole.

"Where should we go?" asked Harry.

"I dunno. Show me… show me your favorite places."

Harry laughed and several portraits mumbled about 'sneaky noisy students.' "Well, that could take all night. Come on."

They visited the library first. Harry led her up to the top floor to a large French window. Through it, she could see a large rose garden with roses of every color.

Harry leaned against the glass and sighed softly. "I came here a lot last year when I couldn't cast. Even though we're on the top floor, it looks like we're on the ground. I tried to fly to it… but there's nothing there."

Ginny wasn't about to break Harry's illusion by telling her that it wasn't real, merely a simple charm.

_It is pretty though._

Next, Harry pulled her to four busts in the Charm's corridor that were snoozing on their pedestals. "Watch this," said Harry happily. "Ahem. Boys… can we have a round please?"

The bust of a bald old man with a very large mustache awoke and said in a deep full voice, "It's a tad late, but I suppose I can rouse the fellows for you, Miss Potter. Men! Attention!" The three other busts awoke, huff-puffing indignantly at being awoken at this hour. "In C, boys."

The four statues broke into song; a barbershop quartet to be exact.

"_Lida Rose, I'm home again, Rose,"_

"_To see the wand light in your eye."_

"_Lida Rose, I'm home again, Rose,"_

"_About a thousand Potions shy."_

"_Ding dong ding."_

"_I can hear the Augury cry."_

"_Ding dong ding."_

"_At the least suggestion I'll pop the question."_

"_Lida Rose, I'm home again, Rose."_

"_Without a Galleon to my name."_

"_Lida Rose, now Merlin knows,"_

"_That I am hoping you're the same."_

"_So here is my love song, not fancy or fine."_

"_Lida Rose, oh won't you be mine."_

"_Lida Rose, oh Lida Rose, oh Lidaaaaa Rose."_

Ginny and Harry clapped avidly.

"That was your best one yet!" crooned Harry. "Thanks boys. Distract Filch for us, would you?" She grabbed Ginny's arm and pulled her back beneath the cloak.

They stopped at a bathroom next.

"I came here when I needed someone to wallow with," Harry said, embarrassed. "The ghost inside… she cries all the time. So... so don't worry if you upset her."

Ginny followed Harry in. The floor was soaked and the entire room smelled like… _ghost_.

"Myrtle!" called Harry. "Are you here?"

There was a short pause of silence and then a small voice from inside one of the stalls sobbed out, _"Go away."_

"Come on, Myrtle. It's me, Harry."

A ghostly head with pigtails and very large round glasses stuck itself through the wooden door. "Oh," said the head with a sniffle. "It_ is_ you. I thought you were Olive Hornsby come to taunt me about my glasses again."

"You've got to let it go, Myrtle," said Harry promptly. "You'll never get to the other side, if you don't. I'm sure that's what's keeping you here. And besides, I like your glasses, they're a bit like mine."

Myrtle nodded but caught sight of Ginny. The ghost zoomed out of the stall to hover nose-to-nose in front of her. "Who's this? Come to have a laugh at me, have you?"

"N-No," stuttered Ginny. "Harry is showing me around the castle."

Myrtle harrumphed.

"You actually _like_ going in there?" whispered Ginny once they were outside the bathroom again.

"Yeah… Myrtle takes a bit of getting used to… but there's something intriguing about her… I don't know what… shite!" Harry froze and pointed to a black cat that was staring directly at them from a window sill. "Mrs. Norris. She can smell us under the cloak!"

Ginny liked cats, but even _she_ had to admit that this one looked rather unpleasant. They quickly ran from the ugly thing, darting down hallways and ducking into passages that lay behind tapestries. There was a rather large door at the end of this corridor… which they had surely passed through before. Ginny didn't remember a door being there.

They tore into the room and slammed the thick door behind them. Ginny leant against the wood, trying to catch her breath.

The cluttered hall they had just emerged into was... _large._ She gasped as the sheer magnitude of the room's size truly dawned on her. It was easily twice as big as the great hall. What's more… is that it was filled to the brim with… _junk_. Broken furniture, spell damaged furniture, flying furniture, flying catapults, fanged Frisbees, chipped bottles of congealed potion, silverware, broken shells, rusting weapons of every kind, an enormous stuffed troll, hats, gaudy jewels and robes, a turntable that was still skipping, and thousands upon thousands of books.

And that was just what was right in front of her

"Merlin!" breathed Ginny. "Where are we?"

Harry pulled off the cloak, reached out, and spun a pinwheel which shot bubbles from its tips. "No idea… but this place is _amazing._" Running down an aisle, she snatched up a blonde wig and tiara from the bust of an extremely ugly wizard. She sat it on her head and twirled around. "Look Gin, I'm Princess Di!"

"Who?" asked Ginny curiously.

Harry laughed. "Never mind. Come on let's explore."

They perused the aisles separately, yelling for the other whenever they found something interesting. Harry had already discovered a bureau full of beautiful Victorian dress robes that they had tried on for each other. Ginny wondered why anyone would ever throw away something so fine.

Listening to Harry bang around in the next aisle, she squeezed between two mountains of furniture, trailing a hand over a row of beat-up transfiguration textbooks.

Her breath caught in her chest.

Towering above her, standing on two very large clawed feet… was a mirror. '_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi,'_ was carved across the top of the golden frame.

She stepped up to it.

Amazingly… it was not her own reflection she saw.

Two women... two very beautiful older women occupied the spot where her own image should have been. They were… _starkers_. A redhead stood in the back, arms wrapped around the waist of a black-haired woman. The redhead had one hand buried in between the other woman's legs, fingers swirling furiously, while the other hand kneaded a breast.

A high-pitched scream of agony tore her attention away from the mirror.

Ginny's heart started to beat frantically. "Harry?"

She threw herself down the aisle, her legs feeling heavy as lead as she pumped them furiously. There was a passage into the neighboring aisle between a very large smiling mask and a giant broken umbrella.

Harry's screams became ever more terrible to hear when Ginny saw her. She was strapped into a blackened golden throne, thrashing, blood pouring from her nose and mouth. Her twinkling green eyes had turned a violent red… the most terrible, _terrible_ red.

0000

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Severus jumped as the scream echoed down the lengths of the chamber.

_That sounds like…_

He leapt up from the ratty armchair in which he had been sitting, threw down the tattered book of old potions recipes in which he had been browsing, and ran towards the source of the sound… _hoping…_ hoping he could see her one last time.

He rounded the corner.

He saw red hair… but it wasn't hers.

He saw her face, bloody, contorted in pain… but it was on the wrong person; it was on a girl he despised as much as the source of the seed that begot her.

He saw… red eyes; eyes he had not seen in eleven years save for in his dreams.

The Weasley girl cried out to him, clutching uselessly at the red hot metal snakes that held Potter in place; her hands were sizzling and blistering; tears of pain and rage and helplessness careened down her cheeks in torrents. "PLEASE! HELP HER! PLEASE!" Potter's screams intensified and the redhead screamed with her as her hands caught fire. "NO! HARRY!"

Severus shot water everywhere, putting out the fires that were erupting on both girls.

Before he had even attempted to release Potter from the chair, her screams stopped, the snakes retreated, and the girl fell forward onto the floor with a thud.

The Weasley girl crawled toward Potter on her elbows as her hands were nearly burnt away to the bone. She nuzzled her head on the shoulder of the other girl and said weakly, "Harry?"

Potter looked up at Weasley and Severus gasped. Her eyes were still blazing red. She spoke in a deep unholy voice. "Little bitch. Elope with a Peverell? I killed you once... I'LL DO IT AGAIN!"

0000

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Harry walked along the aisle curiously fiddling with anything that looked remotely interesting. She picked up a wand that disappeared as soon as she tried to cast a spell with it. _That's a good trick. I should tell Fred and George._

Harry turned, took a step, and almost tumbled over a chair in the middle of the path. _T__hat wasn't there a moment ago._ It seemed incredibly old and it had obviously been through a fire or two. She ran a finger over the inscription on the head rest.

_**Που μοιράζεται το δώρο μου θα κληρονομήσει το όραμά μου. **_

The lettering was in what she thought to be Greek… if she was correctly remembering her history classes at Stonewall Primary School.

As soon as her hand reached the edge of the inscription, the first letter bent over to the side… and then a second started to bend… and then a third. The metal went white hot and she pulled her finger back quickly. The entire chair was twisting like molten metal, growing and reshaping.

When the metal settled, a mighty golden throne sat before her. Around its decorative frame, golden snakes twisted together, eating each other's tails. Bright red jewels were inlaid into their eyes.

Harry saw a new inscription on the frame. It was in a language she had never seen, but for some reason, could understand.

_**Parselmouth, ye of my line, child of ancient Hades. Inherit my vision if you can withstand the dark. Become my vassal… and destroy the traitors to the Dark Throne.**_

The snakes came alive, darting out to wrap around Harry's limbs. They pulled her down into the throne so quickly that she didn't have any time to struggle or yell.

The world around her went black.

Harry floated in the abyss, drifting through nothing. _She_ was nothing. The dark sank into her mind like an anvil in water. It surrounded her, suffocated her, and consumed her. The dark was forever and ever.

Until she saw a light…

A single solitary light.

A magnificent spiraling light, beating away the dark.

It was so familiar… and yet, so foreign and strange and… _unreachable._

As if someone had flipped a switch, the dark was replaced with sunshine.

"I say no," yelled Pericles, "as I have said before!" The echo of his voice bounced around the walls of the Senate chamber. "There shall be no temple to Hades in Athens!" The man spat upon the floor after saying the name. "A creation of such blasphemy towards mighty Zeus would destroy us… destroy the Delian league. You shame yourself by asking for it."

The other Archons grumbled their agreement.

Harry stood, twirled her staff, slammed it down upon the ground and hissed, "Come to me, Prime."

"_I come, Masster."_ The earth beneath them rumbled and her Prime broke through the stone floor, sending withered white robed men flying. The basilisk coiled around her protectively, eyes shut tight. "_What do you wissh of me, Masster?"_

"Herpo!" cried Socrates. "Send your beast back to the Underworld! It has no place here."

"You have broken your promise yet again, you filthy Giftless plebes!" yelled Harry viciously. "You came to me… groveled at my feet… begged me to save you from the Persian horde… and still you refuse me? The darkness must be appeased! The gods acknowledge that my payment has been refused… so I shall take that payment by force. I shall take it from your flesh!_"_ She placed her hand on top of her Prime's head and hissed with a satisfied grin, "Kill them. Leave one survivor to spread the tale."

"_Yess masster."_ The basilisk opened its eyes and three of the Senators dropped dead instantly. It lunged and tore another two in half with its fangs. Blood sprayed everywhere, soiling the pearly white robes of Athens' oldest men.

"Let this be a lesson, Giftless!" Harry laughed maniacally as the Senator's ran for their lives. They were quickly pulled back by her Prime, dying terrible deaths as it devoured them, piece by bloody piece. "Those who cross Herpo the Black shall meet their bloody ends by venomous fang!" She turned and walked out of the building, leaving her Prime to finish its work.

Harry strolled down the cobbled street of the Agora, sandals slapping against the stone, blinking rapidly as the sun was reflected off white marble into her eyes. _How dare they… my snakes saved this city from Xerxes' filth and this is how they repay me…_

No… she certainly wasn't in a good mood.

Feeling rage like she had never felt, Harry slapped a young slave girl across the face with the back of her jeweled hand as the little thing walked past. Her small head slammed into a column, leaving a large red stain as she slid down it. _Most likely dead… but it doesn't matter, does it? _She tossed a gold coin onto the girl's stomach in penance to the gods for damaging another man's property.

Harry reached her destination. She glared up at the effigy of Zeus and slammed her staff once again upon the ground. The statue cracked down the middle and split apart, leaving in its place an effigy of The Black God Hades.

"Death to the Giftless," she whispered spitefully. "I so swear it upon your name, Hades. I shall dedicate my life to eradicating the swine. Grant me power... power to end the filth."

Harry disapparated back to her villa in Corinth, feeling the need to find one of her slave girls and fuck her anger out.

The world around her went black.

Darkness spun around Harry attacking her from all sides, but the spiral of light protected her; shielded her.

Harry took her… _brutally._ When she relented and withdrew, the bleeding girl beneath her moaned miserably, got up, and ran.

"_Avita Kitavra!"_ Harry cried, pointing her staff at the last princess of Sparta. The burst of green light slammed into the terrified young woman and she fell to the ground… most assuredly dead.

Grinning, body singing with the power of the curse, she drew her staff across her own chest, cutting into the flesh; cutting down to the bone; cutting her very soul.

There was pain. Intense pain. But everlasting life was more important than a few moments of agony.

Harry clutched the small wooden horse tightly in her palm.

The world around her went black.

Darkness tore at her flesh, digging hooks into her skin, but the spiral of light kept her in one piece.

Salazar opened the green leather bound book and flinched as Kariel bit down on his arm, paper fangs sinking into his skin. Harry watched him seize in amusement as her venomous knowledge flowed into the boy. _Weakling._

"Get up," she hissed in a deadly whisper from her golden throne. "Do not fail me as you did your father. Now… cast it."

Salazar raised his wand and mumbled, "_Avata Katavra."_

The rabbit was engulfed in the green glow… and went merrily sniffing away at a carrot.

"Idiot child! Again." She could feel the boy glaring daggers at her back. She could taste his hate in the air… and she _savored_ it. "Use it boy. Use that spite. Stop casting like a Giftless Muggle."

"_Avata Katavra!"_ the boy screamed.

The green light slammed into her turned back. She felt her soul being ripped away… and she died… quietly… without a word.

Wooden horse in hand, Harry's freshly possessed homunculus stepped out of the pantry as naked as the day she was born. The boy, face still frozen in glee at her death, wand still raised, shrieked and ran for the door when he saw her. With a flick of her hand, it was locked and bolted. She summoned the clothes and wand from her dead body. "Better, Salazar. Now… do it again. If you… _miss_… the rabbit, I will cut out your tongue."

"Y-Yes, Master Merwyn."

The world around her went black.

Darkness crept into her mind, but the spiraling light ripped it back out.

She awoke with a gasp, struggling to free herself from the invisible binds that held her to the bed.

"Good afternoon, Grandfather," said Antioch pleasantly. "Don't mind us. We're just nipping off with our share of the family fortune. Can't let it all go to you filthy Gaunts, now can we?"

Ignotus laughed. "Yes… and don't bother calling your snakes either. They're dead." He held up a mythril axe and a rooster. Harry's insides seethed with rage.

Cadmus patted Harry on the cheek and slid the Death Stone out from beneath her pillow. "I'll finally see my wife again," he said with anguish. "You took her away from me you son of a whore… and now I'm taking her back." Cadmus sent a bone-breaker into her jaw.

Speech was difficult with a shattered jaw. "Bastard Peverells. Your mother... was scum... that married a dirty Muggleborn. I relish the day I strangled her. You're no grandsons of mine!" Harry spat blood in his face and wandlessly conjured a knife which she banished at him.

Antioch knocked it away with Harry's wand; the wand she herself had crafted from the heartstring of her first basilisk. "Now Now Grandfather, that's no way to treat family." The two other boys laughed cruelly and Antioch grinned. "Let's find that Horse, boys."

Harry's eyes widened. _How could they know? _"Get out," she said heavily. "I'll find you-"

Antioch growled and cut Harry's leg off at the knee with a flick of the wand.

Harry refused to cry out.

"You don't you get it… do you, Malvolus? Or… is it Merwyn the Malicious? Or is it Emeric the Evil? Or is it _Herpo the Foul?_" Antioch sat on the bed and twirled her elder branch wand between his fingers. "It was clever… pretending to be so many of the world's darkest, never stirring up enough trouble to start a war; always 'defeating' yourself under a new name. But all your evils are about to catch up to you… we know your secret. Two thousand years is far too long for any one man to live. And by Merlin… you of all people need to die. You killed our mother… your own daughter. You _will_ meet your end tonight, Herpo."

"My sons will kill you," Harry whispered in rage. "My line will hunt you and your families forever."

"Most likely," laughed Ignotus. "Yet… it will be worth it to see you dead and gone… found it! Put it under his cloak, the clever bastard."

Harry watched in fury as her small wooden horse was pulled out from under her invisibility cloak. Ignotus drew out a long thin fang and thrust it into the center of the horse. The wood cracked and a scream echoed from its depths.

Antioch smirked. "Goodbye Grandfather…" He raised the wand.

Harry felt… _fear._

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

Harry saw the green curse flying at her in slow motion. She quickly Astraled into the throne room, enchanting the seat to tell her story; to lead her heirs to her killers; to keep her mind alive in the gold.

Harry screamed. Pain beyond pain. Heat beyond heat. She died; she died a thousand times, and a thousand times again. She burned in the green fire. Her eyes seared with unimaginable heat as the darkness overtook her. It crashed through the spiraling light, shattering it like glass, filling her with two-thousand years worth of rage and hate.

"Harry?" moaned a week voice.

She looked up. She saw amber eyes… eyes just like her daughter's.

"Little bitch," spat Harry. "Elope with a Peverell? I killed you once. I'LL DO IT AGAIN!" She lunged for the neck of the girl, hands closing around soft flesh. She squeezed, choking the air and the life out of her ungrateful spawn.

"POTTER?" cried another voice.

She felt something slam into her side and suddenly she could no longer keep her eyes open.

The darkness trickled away, as if sucked through a drain. The spiraling light appeared once more, soothing her soul.

Harry awoke to the sound of soft voices and the smells of strawberries and extreme cleanliness. _Hospital wing… Ginny. _Blinking without her glasses, she tried to sit up, but her limbs were much too heavy. Instead, she tried to move her lips. "Gi-Ginny."

There was a scuffling sound of shoes turning quickly on stone, running footsteps, and a dipping of her mattress before she felt familiar arms slide around her. "I'm sorry," Harry whispered feverishly. "He was too strong."

Ginny shook her head and kissed her on the shoulder. Sliding Harry's glasses back into their proper place, she replied softly, "I know. You were possessed. He was still screaming from your mouth after Professor Snape knocked you out. Dumbledore forced him out of your head and into Professor Snape's… who killed him… or something. I knew it wasn't you… don't worry."

Harry clenched her eyes shut tightly, wrapping her arms and legs around Ginny, trying to block out the horrors she had seen Herpo perform. "Love you."

Ginny sat up and smiled. "Love you too."

Harry didn't hear her return the words however. She was staring intently at the large purple bruise that stretched across the width of Ginny's neck. "I did that..."

"No... you didn't… some crazy bit of magic did that. It's not your fault."

"I must agree with Miss Weasley, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore as he strolled down the aisle of the Hospital wing to her bed. "I myself do not think I could have rid you off that magic without Severus' helping hand. If someone were to tell me that a witch of age twelve overthrew the grip of a truly dark wizard, I would tell that person they were off their rocker. And coming from myself…" He smiled at her, eyes crinkled and twinkling. "…that is saying something."

"Thank you for getting it out of me, sir." Harry looked over to Snape, who was hovering some twenty feet away. _I don't want to… but…_ "And… thank you as well Professor Snape, sir."

Snape seemed conflicted, like he wanted to be kind and scream at the same time. "You're… welcome,_ Potter_." He managed to say at least one of the words dripping with his usual venom. Harry imagined from the face he had made that the other two had tasted sour in his mouth.

Harry nodded and the room fell into an extremely uncomfortable silence. The Headmaster whistled and excused himself to the toilet. Harry cocked her head at Snape and he swelled with whatever it was he swelled with. _Hair Grease probably_. "Detention Potter, for being out of bounds at night! You as well, Weasley." He swept from the room like the overgrown bat that he was.

Harry pulled Ginny back down into the bed. "Has Madam Pompfrey looked at your neck?"

Ginny shook her head. "After she fixed my hands she got started on you."

Not sure if she really wanted to know, Harry bravely asked, "What happened to your hands?"

Ginny winced. "They… they burned away… all the way to the bone."

Harry moaned and felt the horror build in her chest. "I'm… I'm s-"

Ginny quickly covered Harry's mouth with her fingers. "Don't apologize."

Harry turned her cheek into Ginny's hand and whispered, "Let's go to sleep… it must be nearly morning and I'll be damned if I'm going to miss the first day of class _just because _I was possessed by a two-thousand year old Dark Wizard from Ancient Greece."

"Two-thousand? Will you tell me what happened in the morning?" asked Ginny sleepily, slinging a leg overtop of her.

"Y-Yea-Yeah," Harry said with a yawn. "Sure thing."

The next morning, however, was not the time for a lie in, nor the time for long-winded explanations. A schedule had appeared on her nightstand and she had double potions in... twenty minutes.

Ron and Hermione gave her dubious looks as she came to the dungeons with her hair a mess… or at least... more of a mess than usual. "I'll explain later," she moaned, plopping down into the seat next to Hermione.

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Severus was still reeling from having that _thing _inside his head. It wasn't a spirit, or a soul, or a mind… it was just hate and pure unadulterated rage, bundled together with horrific memories. It felt _wretched. _The second it had entered his mind he had had an overwhelming urge to murder the Weasley girl. He had disseminated it on the spot. Pulling apart the memories, cutting them up and sending them to a mouse he had found in the dungeon. It had promptly exploded.

He had siphoned off as much of the anger as he could into a potion that required high emotional states from the brewer. However, he entered his second year potion's class that morning still rather furious. He looked around the group of pathetic students. Not a single one of them besides Granger had any real sort of talent for the subject. Potter knew it all… but she was Potter and he wasn't about to pay her any form of compliment.

"Today," he whispered so the class had to lean forward to hear him, "we will be brewing our first antidote. At the end of class I will be poisoning each of you-"

"You're going to bloody poison us?" shouted the Finnegan boy in his obnoxiously heavy accent.

"I would take points from Gryffindor for your outburst Finnegan… but we are not yet even five minutes into the first class of term and thus Gryffindor has no points to take. So I think a detention is appropriate." Severus tried not to grin as the boy sat down low in his chair, looking miserable. "As I was saying… I will be poisoning each of you with a _non-lethal _toxin. You will treat yourself with your own antidote. If you are cured of the poison, you will achieve full marks. If I have to administer my own antidote to you… you will fail. It is a simple assignment. The recipe for the antidote is on the board. Follow them correctly, and there is no doubt you will pass."

As the students bustled about the room collecting ingredients, he sat back in his chair and glared at them all, the anger of the dark wizard bleeding through into his own neutral feelings. He quickly tried to compose himself; placing his wand on the desk in front of him before he gave in to the urge to shoot a cutting curse at Longbottom's face.

About half way through the class, he noticed that Potter had fallen asleep in the back of the room. Oh how he would _enjoy_ giving her a zero. It was so rare that he found an occasion to do so. Weasley saw his feral smirk and stared nervously at the sleeping girl. He nudged Granger, who nudged Potter… who didn't wake up.

"Weasley… Granger… eyes on your potions. There will be time enough for nudging and footsies later." The two students blushed furiously and Severus turned to the board so he could hide his smirk.

At the end of the class he handed each student a small vial. He awakened Potter as rudely as he could with a rapid disillusionment charm and a finite incantem. The two spells were most unsettling if done in quick enough succession.

Potter looked miserable and tired. He almost felt pity for her and her ridiculous Potter hair... _almost._ He would make this short and sweet. "Potter... you first."

She shook her head. "My antidote isn't finished yet, sir. I have to take a zero."

He grinned. "That remains to be seen, Potter. Take the poison and drink your antidote."

"Sir…" said Potter questioningly, "that could… that could rupture my stomach. I haven't added batwing or thistle. I'd rather take the zero."

"You will do as I say."

Potter glared at him with Lily's eyes and muttered, "No... I wont."

"_What did you say?"_

"I said I won't!" Potter tipped back her poison, vanished her antidote, walked over to the student's ingredient shelf, and pulled out a bezoar. She stomped back to her desk, looked him dead in the eye just as Lily used to when she was angry at him, and swallowed it whole. "There…" she said disgustedly. "I get full marks now."

He bristled at her cheek. "No, you don't, Potter… you get a zero."

"Thank you, sir. That will be fine."

She had deprived him of her embarrassment and her pain. "Another detention, Potter."

"For what?" she shouted, to the shock of the rest of the class. "You and I both know that antidote was going to eat through my intestinal lining and_ still_ you wanted me to drink it! What kind of teacher are you?"

No one made a sound. The girl was trembling in rage, accidental magic causing wind to blow her hair about every which way.

_She even talks like Lily; shakes her hands like Lily; goes red like Lily._

"Fifty points from… Detention for a week, Potter! I am a teacher and you will _not_ speak to me that way!"

"Fine," she said with an annoyed laugh.

_She laughed at me…_

It stung… deeply… because it wasn't Potter laughing… it was Lily. This girl was so much like her; it sickened him. This wasn't over. He would have the last word_._ "You're an arrogant toe-rag, Potter. Just like your father. He thought he could-"

"Oh will you shut it about my Dad?" screamed Potter. Malfoy sniggered, Granger gave a weak little gasp, and Weasley groaned, putting his head down into his arms. "Yeah, alright… he was a berk to you in school. And you were a berk to him. But you know what? _He's_ the better man. _He_ let go of his grudge while _you're_ still sitting here taking out your frustration on me when I've never done a _bloody_ thing to you! How do you _live_ with yourself; tormenting the kid of your best friend, just because she has hair that looks like her dad's? It's bloody bollocks that's what it is. Give me detention for a year, I don't care, but Merlin's Beard… Get over yourself!"

Severus stared at her open mouthed… He couldn't bring himself to say a single thing.

Potter gathered up her things and made for the door, but she stopped and spun back to face the class at the bottom step. She caught his eyes and sent him one final glare. "My mum left a message for you, _Professor_. She says she forgives you for whatever you did. I wonder what she would say now though… since she knows you're trying to hurt her daughter due to an idiotic grudge. She's always watching, you know."

Potter stomped out of the classroom like a bull about to charge.

The students had already left for their next class by the time he was able to gather himself.

_She… she forgives me._

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**Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page. Contains some NSFW content.**

**New art up. **

**Anyone can comment on art now. Didn't realize I had a filter on before.**

**Review! Ask me questions. I want to answer them.**

**looking for nitpicky betas-grammar specific**

Quick and dirty chapter hot off the press. Just wanted to get this out there. I'm too tired to revise right now.

We'll learn more about the contents of Herpo's visions later.

Astraling will be discussed in a later book.


	11. Chapter 10: Losing Time

**IMORTANT: There was confusion with the throne. Harry experienced flashes into the memories of Herpo the Foul, who ****according to canon**** was an ancient greek wizard (circa 500-400 B.C. was my guess) that bred the first basilisk and made the first Horcrux. ****She experienced the flashes just as she does with Voldemort's visions; in first person.**** Remember Quirrell? You might have suppressed it. It was pretty squicky.**

**My twist on the canon story was that 1500 years later, Herpo was the teacher of Slytherin, presumably under a different name. Explains Slytherin's affinity for basilisks and the dark arts.**

**And 1900 years later, around the 1400's when he carried the name Malvolus **_**Gaunt**_**, the Peverells, his grandsons through his daughter, killed him and acquired his wand, stone, and cloak. (wink wink) He *Astraled* into the next room just before he died and enchanted his throne much like a pensieve… but instead of just memories, he poured emotion and two-thousand years of evil into it as well… which is what possessed Harry. **

**I'm just filling in back story that was never really touched upon, creating realistic scenarios from the legends. I mean come on… 'the three brothers made a deal with death?' Yeah right. **

**We only saw those few memories because they had to do with the drive and the creation of horcruxes as those memories resonated with the horcrux in Harry's mind.**

So I hope that clears some things up.

**Chapter 10: Losing Time**

_They sat in the ancient wilderness. Far birds' cries blew on a wind, and the smell of tar and an old salt sea, moist grasses, and flowers the color of blood._

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Even from the top row of stands, she could see Ginny's hair sparkling brilliantly in the sun. Harry wanted to be down there on the pitch with her, retaking her first flying lesson. She wanted to fly away from her frustrations. But… seeing as she was supposed to be in double Herbology… it probably wasn't the best idea to make her presence known.

She clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to squeeze out her pent up anger.

_Snape is pathetic. I won't let that greasy git get to me ever again._

"I'll say this, Harry," drawled a voice from behind her. "You'd make a damn fine Slytherin."

Of all the people she would have wanted to see at that moment, Draco was at the bottom of the list. Harry laughed humorlessly and replied without turning around, "Go away, Draco. I can't deal with you right now."

"No," he said simply, stepping over the back of the bench to sit down next to her. In his typical, 'I own the world manner,' Draco flipped his blonde hair and propped up his feet on the row in front of them. "Snape didn't say a word after you left. He just sat there like a prat, mouthing like a fish and staring at the wall."

"Good," muttered Harry, smiling inwardly at the look she imagined on Snape's sallow-skinned face after she had stormed out; smiling outwardly as she watched Ginny pull off a fantastic nose-dive to the horror of Madam Hooch.

Draco followed her gaze and gestured down at the field. "Is that little redhead the one you attacked Pansy over? The youngest Weasley?"

Harry's eyes widened at the implications of his question and her heartbeat quickened. "You lay a _finger_ on her, Draco, and I swear on the graves of my parents… I'll kill you with my bare hands."

Draco laughed. "My my… how very Weaselbee-esque of you, Harry." He picked at his fingernails, flicking the offending cuticles away. "No… Don't get your little knickers in a twist. I was just curious as to why you were watching her so intently when _I'm _so much more interesting."

Harry snorted into her shirt. "More interesting than what? Listening to Professor Binns?"

Draco gave her the two finger salute, but he was grinning. "Really… Harry… why can't we just be friends? We get on alright."

"We've been through this. We can't because you're an arse." Harry said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"So is Weaselbee," retorted Draco with an infuriatingly likable smirk plastered across his face.

Harry waved him off and added, "Because you're an _arrogant_ arse."

"This coming from someone that essentially just told a Professor to wank off?" asked Draco smarmily. "Not a very solid reason."

"Well, maybe it's because you're a filthy bigot!" Harry cried with spite, releasing all the anger she felt for Snape onto the blonde boy. "Just like the one that killed my parents. Now just… go away, you stupid ponce!"

Draco's smirk fell from his face. It was rapidly replaced by an expression chock-full of hot anger with a side dish of disappointment. He moved closer to her, but stopped abruptly as her wand's tip met the space between his eyes.

Sighing, Harry shook her head and said darkly, "Look… just leave me alone, Draco. I'm not in the mood for friendly banter… especially not with someone who is cruel to my friends and who shoves his tongue down the mouth of the biggest dirtiest bint in the world."

Even with her wand in his face Draco had the stones to yell, "Don't you _fucking_ talk about Pansy like that!"

"I'll stop when she stops," spat Harry, "And why shouldn't I, Draco? Think how I feel when you talk about Ron the way you do? It makes me want to curse your bits off…" She lowered her wand to his groin. "...which I'm thinking about doing right now _unless_ you back away."

Draco searched her face with his icy steel-grey eyes, nodded tersely, and slid down the bench in the opposite direction. He resumed his lounging position and drawled cheerily, "Sooo… the ickle Weasley girl handles a broom pretty well. Did you teach her?"

Harry glared at him. He obviously wasn't going away. "No… she's just good."

"You know, I'll be trying out for the Slytherin team this year," Draco said pompously. "I'm sure to make Seeker."

Harry laughed. _Is he trying to impress me? _"Bully for you, Draco. Although, if Flint is still the Captain… then that's a bit unlikely. You're not big enough for his tastes."

"Flint is a pile of dragon shite… but he'll take me on. I'm riding a Two-Thousand and One, after all."

Harry groaned. _He has the new Nimbus? I thought they were almost ten-thousand galleons each?_ "So… you're just buying your way onto the team then?"

"No," said Draco vehemently, cheeks flushing in anger. "I've practiced all summer. I'm twenty times better than Higgs. Pansy reckons I'm better than Diggory."

"Sure you are," mumbled Harry sarcastically.

Draco flipped his hair again. "You know, Father says there might be a scout for the League at the first match."

Harry had had enough. "Draco. Shut it. Please. If you're not going to go away, just bloody sit quietly!"

He thankfully stayed quiet so Harry could watch the first years fly in peace. She didn't want to go to Transfiguration or Defense. She wanted to take Ginny someplace quiet and get the sleep she so desperately needed.

Draco stood up when the flying lesson was over. "I have Charms… I'll see you."

He made to leave, but Harry caught his hand. He seemed shocked that she was touching him. Harry didn't blame him… she was shocked as well. She opened her mouth... but no speech came to her.

"What?" he drawled. "Spit it out already."

"Wh-Why did you follow me up here?" asked Harry.

"You know why… You were mine first."

His grey eyes bore into her and the right words danced onto the tip of her tongue. "I… I wish you were different," she mumbled in earnest.

Draco pulled his hand away with a sour look on his face. "_I'm trying,"_ he whispered heatedly. "But what you're asking for… it's hard, alright?"

Harry nodded.

Draco flipped his hair and swaggered away down the stairs, leaving her staring after him.

"Hmmm. That was almost touching," said a deep wheezing voice, thick with a heavy polish accent.

Harry whirled around and whipped out her wand, pointing it into every corner of the empty box. "Who's there?" she asked, adrenaline shooting through her body, increasing the rate of her heartbeat to a dull roar of heavy thuds.

There was no answer.

With a circular flick of her wand, she whispered, _"Aguamenti."_ Water shot from its tip in a powerful arc. She sprayed it all over the stands, but the stream didn't meet any resistance that could have been an invisible body.

She was indeed alone.

_Great. First possession… and now I'm hearing voices._

Harry left the spectator box quickly and hurried to Transfiguration, fervently hoping the voice didn't follow her.

Ron and Hermione were waiting outside the classroom for her, demanding an explanation for this morning's disheveled appearance, for her outburst with Snape, and for why she missed Herbology. Harry told them everything she could as they attempted to transfigure beetles into buttons.

Hermione gasped and whispered, "Two-Thousand years? That's… that's even longer than Flamel! Herpo was a terribly powerful dark-wizard as well. Oh Harry… are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, Mione," said Harry exasperatedly. It was the fifth time Hermione had asked if she was alright. "Dumbledore and Snape got rid of it. I was hoping… I was sure Snape would be kinder to me after that… but he was just as horrible as always, more so even… which is why I… exploded and ran off."

Ron poked his beetle and it went very flattish… but was still unmistakably a beetle. "Well, I thought it was brilliant, mate. Although, you probably only made him hate you _more_. Bugger… Mione, show me how to do this." He had poked his beetle with a bit too much zeal, skewering it on the end of his wand. Professor McGonagall wasn't pleased.

Harry was relieved to hear the lunch bell. She walked quickly to the Great Hall and as she sat down, slid an arm around Ginny, who was unsuccessfully tearing into a rather large piece of bread. "I saw you flying today," said Harry. "You looked brilliant."

Ginny beamed at her. "Sh'anks." Harry giggled and Ginny swallowed. "What were you doing at my flying lesson?"

"Snape," whispered Harry. "I… I had a bad morning. Just wanted to… Well, I just wanted to be with you."

Ginny scooted closer to her. "You okay?"

Harry sighed and put her head on the redhead's shoulder. "Now I am."

Ron plopped down into the seat next to her and dove for the potato salad. "Anyone know what we have this afternoon?"

"Defense," said Hermione immediately, without looking at her schedule.

Ron scowled and snatched it out of her hands. "_Why_ have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Harry and Ginny giggled as Hermione grabbed the parchment back, flushing red to the roots of her hair. "That's none of your business, Ronald."

Harry watched Ron's eyes flash with _real_ jealousy and her repaired good mood sunk back into 'not so good.' Ginny squeezed her hand and pushed into her body so Harry was forced to move closer to Ron.

"_Ginny! Stop!"_ she nervously whispered under her breath, blushing just as furiously as Hermione.

Ginny giggled and kept pushing. Harry fell out of her seat with a tumultuous squeal.

There was a click and a flash.

Colin and his camera were standing above her.

She groaned miserably at the tittering laughter that broke out all over the hall. Harry could hear Pansy's loud cackle over the throng. "Colin!" she said fiercely as she stood up. "You _won't_ be developing that photo."

"But I need to prove I've met you!" cried the mousy-haired boy. "Could you sign it Harry?"

Harry grimaced. "And let you have a signed photo of me flashing you my knickers? I think not."

Colin went bright red and nodded like a bobble-head toy. "R-Right… sorry. I'll… I'll cut it out of the film."

"What's all this about flashing knickers and signed photos?" asked a jovial voice from behind them. _Oh god._ Gilderoy Lockhart was striding purposefully towards them, turquoise robes swirling behind him. When he saw Harry, he grinned widely. She, as well as several other girls around her, let out a little gasp at his oh-so-white teeth. Chuckling, Lockhart threw an arm around Harry's shoulders and said in a booming voice, "Shouldn't have asked! Harriet Potter!"

Harry saw Pansy fall over in her seat, heaving with laughter. The entire hall was listening in.

"Well then Mr. Creevey," said Lockhart grandiosely. "How about a double portrait? We'll _both_ sign it. Can't do much better than that can you?"

Colin bounced excitedly as he took the picture. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed that the lens cap had been on the whole time. She wasn't however, about to alert anyone of this fact.

Lockhart smiled down at her. "Walk with me Harry." She blushed as his hand, settling firmly on her shoulder, steered her out of the Great Hall. "You know, I blame myself, giving you this thirst for publicity. Gave you the _bug. _Got you on the front page and now you're_ itching_ to do it again."

"Oh no… that's not it at all sir. I just fell off the bench and Colin-"

"A word to the wise, Harry," said Lockhart paternally, interrupting her when they reached the quiet of the Entrance Hall. "Exposing yourself in front of the camera is never a smart move. I've tried it myself a few times for the short burst of…well, never mind. Trust you me, Harry, it's a terrible business in the long run."

She thought her face must have been swelling from all the blood that was rushing to it. "Sir… I… I wasn't exposing myself."

"No need to be modest, Harry." Lockhart patted her back lightly, ignoring her protesting stutters. "Any fool can see that you're a relatively attractive young lass. You don't want to flaunt it though, Harry. 'Let them come to you,' I always say."

Harry gave up. "Yes sir. I'll keep that in mind."

They walked slowly up to the Defense classroom; Lockhart spewing advice on how to effectively deal with publicity. Harry had stopped listening after a few minutes. She found that intently watching the movements of his chiseled jaw as he spoke was much more satisfying than hearing his words.

Harry took a seat at the front of the class.

When Ron entered with Hermione in tow, he glared at her with incredulity. "The _front?_" he whispered heatedly. "Are you trying to drive me bonkers?"

"What?" she whispered back indignantly. "I wanted good seats… so I could… better actively participate."

Ron scoffed and muttered something under his breath.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville's copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own winking portrait on the front. Lockhart flashed them a brilliant smile and said, "Me.

Hermione and Susan Bones sighed audibly and Harry quietly agreed. _Hear hear._

Lockhart continued to introduce himself with zeal. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award… but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by _smiling_ at her!"

No one laughed. Harry had to admit… it was a bad joke… and Hermione still copied it down in her notes. Ron, it seemed, had seen this and was currently trying to burn a hole into the desk with his eyes.

Harry liked Ron's eyes so much. She liked Ron's _everything_ so much. He was, in his own way, just as attractive as the Adonis-esque Lockhart… and was even better on the inside than he was out.

In a moment of spontaneity, she grabbed Ron's hand underneath the desk and without looking at him, pulled it into her lap where she entwined their fingers. It hurt a little that she wasn't the one he was getting jealous over. _I told him not to be jealous over Ginny and I. It's my own damn fault. _

Harry dragged her thumb across his knuckles… trying to let him know that she was here too if he wanted her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ron look up at her. "Harry?" he asked in a whisper. "What's up?"

_Completely oblivious. _Harry smiled weakly, squeezed his hand, and let go as Lockhart passed out a quiz to check how much they remembered from the books, assuming they had read them all. Hermione had… Harry had… but from the terrified expression of the rest of the class, she was fairly sure they were the only two.

And yet… Harry wasn't able to answer a single question on the test as it was a sheet full of ridiculous personal questions about Lockhart himself.

She raised her hand, completely perplexed.

"Yes. Miss Potter?" said Lockhart with a jovial bounce.

Harry held up the sheet. "Sir… I think you've given me one of your interview sheets or something by mistake. There aren't any questions about Defense."

Ron sniggered and slid his test over to her.

It was the same.

Lockhart smiled and Harry saw it once more; that little _not-quite-right_ gleam in his eye. His expression seemed like it had been manufactured on a doll. "To truly excel in Defense Against the Dark Arts, you need to know all about the masters of the craft themselves."

"But-"

"No 'buts,' Harry, there's a good girl. It was all in the books. Let's get to work."

_Shite._

Her brain had only absorbed the useful bits of the books, like what spells Lockhart used to defeat the various creatures, not what Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color was.

"Tut, tut," cried Lockhart half an hour later as he rifled through the papers. "Hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year of the Yeti…"

Harry tuned him out. For the first time in her life, she had 'Failed.' She glared at the man responsible for breaking her amazing record; his handsomeness completely forgotten.

_Stupid blighter. _

She had _never_ failed to earn a passing grade on a test. _Ever._ Not even in Potions… Not even on surprise Maths quizzes back at Stonewall.

"-full marks!" said Lockhart excitedly, bringing her out of her haze of frustration. "Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione squeaked and raised a trembling hand.

Lockhart waved Hermione's paper in the air, beaming at her. "Excellent. Quite excellent! Take ten points to Gryffindor! And so… _to business_." He gestured to the large cage he had pulled out from behind his desk. "Now… be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourself facing your very worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

Harry sat up from her angry slouch, gazing excitedly at the rattling cage.

_This is more like it!_

"I must ask you not to scream. It might… _provoke them!_" Lockhart whipped off the cover on the last syllable.

The breath the entire class had been holding was exhaled as one.

Harry stared at the blonde man in disbelief.

"Yes," Lockhart said dramatically. _"Freshly caught Cornish pixies!"_

Seamus snorted in derision. The rest of the class concurred, tittering with giggles.

"Yes?" Lock asked Seamus with his _not-quite-right _eyes crinkled from what seemed to be a very fake smile.

"Well… they're not… they're not _dangerous_ at all, are they?" asked Seamus with a choking laugh.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waving his little finger at Seamus in the most annoying way. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!" He moved toward the cage and touched the latch.

_Wait… is he going to… oh the idiot, not in a cluttered room! _

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly with a wide grin on his face. "Let's see what you make of them."

Harry stood up and shouted, "Wait!"

But Lockhart had already opened the cage.

It was pandemonium and then some.

Pixies flew everywhere, destroying the contents of the crowded and messy classroom. The annoying little things swooped around their heads, poking eyes, pulling hair, and trying to lift them up by the ears. Two got into Ron's clothes and he was dancing around on the spot. Lockhart gesticulated wildly and shouted, "Come on now… round them up, round them up, they're only pixies!" The man rolled up his sleeves. "_Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"_

Harry wasn't at all surprised when nothing happened. That was clearly a made up spell that lacked direction and intent. It definitely wasn't how you dealt with avian pests either… as Harry had learned in Voyages with Vampires.

_How can he not know his own spells?_

She dove out from the space beneath her desk, swatted a pixie away from her wand, and cried, "Immobulus!"

The blue ball of light shot to the center of the room and exploded in a wave of sparkling magic, immobilizing anything and everything that was in mid-air. Pixies floated dreamily around the classroom along with several textbooks, some inkpots, a few quills, and Neville.

"Blimey," said Ron with a grin. "That was a good shot."

He had taken off the majority of his clothes in the process of removing the pixies and Harry, upon viewing his chest, blushed beet red. Her friend had the beginnings of muscles everywhere and even though his body had that stretched look that came with growing too quickly, Harry thought it was a very nice sight.

Students reemerged from under desks, and poked playfully at the little blue creatures.

"W-Well done, Harry," mumbled Lockhart, crawling out from the safety of his own desk, straightening his hat over his fly-away hair. "Well done indeed."

Thirty minutes later, Harry pushed open the door to Ginny's room. She scratched Frances on the head as she put him on the windowsill and the cactus squinted at her. The first year dorm, unlike the second year dorm, got direct sunlight. Alice slithered down her arm and coiled around the plant protectively. The two had bonded somehow. Harry didn't even believe Frances could really think. Alice, however, insisted that it could… even though the plant had no ways of communicating other than through the movement of its eyes.

Harry flopped down onto Ginny's bed with a sigh. Feeling an intense need to be extra comfy, she kicked off her shoes, pulled off her robe, unknotted her tie, threw off her sweater, and tore off her starch-collared restricting blouse.

This was how Ginny found Harry an hour later after returning from her class; exhausted, without a shirt, and face down in her bed.

Ginny giggled and jumped into the covers with her, straddling the small of Harry's back. "Don't you have your own room?"

Harry flipped them over onto their sides and said weakly. "I had to get away. Mione won't stop gibbering about Lockhart. What a stupid self-absorbed blighter he is. He _actually_ gave us a test containing the question, 'What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite snack?'"

Ginny laughed and dipped her head down into Harry's hair. "Yup… I had him first thing. He's a good looking gitthough if there ever was one."

Harry snorted and took Ginny's fingers into her hands to play with. "I failed of course," she muttered miserably. "For the very first time… I failed a test."

Ginny giggled and consolingly rubbed her shoulder. "It doesn't matter… it was bound to happen eventually. Nobody's perfect, yeah?"

Harry sat up and hunched over the edge of the bed. _"Hermione's perfect,"_ she whispered, surprising herself with the bitterness that accompanied her words. "She got full marks."

Ginny leant against the headboard and pulled Harry back to sit between her legs. "So… Hermione talking about Lockhart wasn't the real reason you had to come to my room, was it?"

"What do you mean?" asked Harry quickly… too quickly.

Ginny laughed and squeezed at Harry's sides. "Come on, Harry. I know that Ron wanting her makes you upset."

Harry relaxed into Ginny's chest, leaning back into her warm arms. "I love Mione and all but… but _I_ want him. He's _my_ knight."

"Then take him, you silly twit."

Harry shook her head. "I _can't_."

"Why not?" asked Ginny.

Harry sighed and said resignedly, "Because I can't hurt her, Gin… and… and I don't think he likes me like that."

Ginny started to run her hands along the lumpy bits of her shoulder. "I think he does, Harry. Maybe you just need to show him you want to be more than mates. Show him that you're a girl and let him _choose_ you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," said Ginny, pulling lightly at her skin. "That way you won't feel guilty."

Harry groaned with pleasure, closing her eyes as Ginny's hands grappled with the tension in her neck. "Where did you learn to do that, Gin?"

"Do what?"

"That… that thing you're doing with my shoulders." Harry shivered. Ginny's fingernails were trailing lightly along her collarbone.

She withdrew her hands quickly from Harry's body. "Oh I… I dunno. I was just doing it. I'm sorry."

Harry let out an involuntarily moan as the skin contact ended. "Don't… don't stop. It feels _really_ wonderful."

Ginny giggled and her palms returned to Harry's shoulders. Her soft hands worked each muscle individually, sliding underneath Harry's bra straps for better access. It was sublime. Ginny fingertips brushed in circles across her neck, sending a shudder across her thin frame. "Wow. Harry, does it really feel that good?"

"Mmhmm yeah."

"Well… lie down then," Ginny said in her ear, patting her belly. "I'll do your whole back."

Harry nodded; her head fuzzy from relaxation. She crawled to the pillow and collapsed.

Ginny, sitting on top of her bum, started to knead Harry's shoulders and upper arms. A wave of complete calm and peace wash over her. Ginny's fingers slid down the side of her ribs and back up over the small of her back.

Harry was purring in content ten minutes later when Ginny said her arms were tired. Harry giggled and muttered happily, "let me do you, then." I'll try and do everything you did."

Ginny yawned and nodded her approval. She stripped off her tops and unclipped her red bra, throwing it against the wall in frustration. "You know, if my bubbies didn't make my back hurt, I'd never wear one of those things." Smirking slyly, she teasingly asked Harry, "Why do you wear one again?"

"Oh Ha Bloody Ha," retorted Harry moodily. "They're finally coming in though."

"Sure those aren't bug bites?" said the redhead with a laugh.

Harry growled and jumped on her, pushing her down on the bed, digging fingers into her sides. Ginny's squeals were surely loud enough to bring down Miranda Robbins, Percy's female Prefect counterpart, so she relented and sat back. "You deserved that."

Freckled breasts heaving, Ginny grinned and flipped over onto her belly. "Yup… and now I deserve a massage."

Harry imitated Ginny's hands as best as she could, kneading and pressing, rubbing and caressing, trailing fingers across a sea of freckled skin. _I like freckles… wish I had some._ Harry felt an intensely pleasant bubbling feeling as she ran her hands all over Ginny's back.

"U-Use your nails," Ginny whispered; her eyes were closed and she was smiling widely. Harry dragged her fingernails down the sides of the redhead's body from arm to waistline. A shudder wracked Ginny's body and the redhead arched downward into the sheets. "Oh… M-Merlin, you're right Harry… this _is_ wonderful."

The dormitory door swung open. "Harry, Ginny, are you in-"

Harry gazed into rapidly bulging chocolate brown eyes.

Hermione absolutely shrieked, "what are you two _doing_?"

Moaning lazily, Ginny replied with a smile, "giving massages. Would you like one?"

Harry wasn't partial to the idea, feeling for some reason like this new pleasurable activity was only meant for her and Ginny. It was a new form of their friendship… something that Hermione couldn't be a part of. The thought was selfish… but she couldn't get rid of it. _This is ours._

Hermione exhaled heavily. "Oh. Dear me, I thought… well… anyway… no thank you. I just came in to… to show you this. You're not going to like it." Hermione was holding out a copy of the Daily Prophet. There were three headlines. One was far more significant to Harry than the others.

_**Grindelwald Passes Quietly**_

_**Platform Nine and Three Quarters- Charms Faulty.**_

_**Statute of Secrecy Hangs in the Balance- Do We Blame Potter?**_

Harry shrugged on her shirt and took the paper from Hermione, quickly flipping to the article where she found a full size picture of herself and Ginny taking off from the ground on a broomstick. Next to that was another picture in which she was shrinking two trunks and an owl cage.

_**Statue of Secrecy Hangs in the Balance- Do We Blame Potter?**_

_By EIC Barnabus Cuffe_

_The Ministry is violently thrown head-over-heels today as recent evidence of our world explodes into the muggle press. Young Harriet Potter, age 12, granted a special dispensation by the Ministry to use magic over her summer holidays due to dangerous living conditions, was seen and photographed performing magic yesterday morning by muggle birdwatchers. The photographs appeared in reputable muggle publications such as __The Sun__, __The Daily Star__, __The Daily Mirror__, and __The Daily Express.__ Obliviators are hard pressed to locate the recipients of each paper as their viewers total in the millions. Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has refused to let Daily Prophet reporters speak to Potter about her blatant disregard for public interest._

_So who do we blame for this gross usurpation of the Ministry's valuable time and resources? Do we blame Harriet Potter, a girl new to the standards and practices expected of her from the Wizarding world? Or do we blame ourselves? Do we blame ourselves for placing the responsibilities of an adult on a 12 year old child?_

Harry burst into laughter. "_The Sun_… _The Daily Mirror_… _reputable_ muggle publications? Mione… those are all tab-rags! I bet they had our picture right next to a... a photo of Nessie."

"Harry… sometimes they… sometimes they get it right… and this time they obviously have."

"Yes, but no one will take it seriously, will they?" asked Harry bitingly. "Don't be an idiot." _Mione interrupted us for this?_

Hermione snatched back the paper. "Why are you being like this? You've been snapping at me for the last hour. I'm sorry you did poorly on your test but you don't have to take it out on me!" She stomped from the room in a huff.

Ginny slid out of the bed and hugged Harry from behind. "You should tell her why you're really upset."

"I'm not-"

Ginny cut her off by blowing a loud raspberry on her neck. "Shut it. Tell her."

Harry sighed and went after her bushy-haired friend.

Hermione was sitting in front of the common room fire, thumbing through the prophet with a miserable look on her face. Ron was across the room playing a game of chess with a seventh year, but he was staring at them curiously.

Harry touched her shoulder lightly and, without looking up, Hermione said curtly, "What?"

"I'm sorry."

Hermione grabbed at Harry's hand and squeezed it, a pleading look adorning her face. "Why are you acting-"

Harry shook her head quickly with a glance at Ron. She pulled Hermione up and whispered, "Not here… in Ginny's room."

Hermione nodded and they ran back up the stairs to find a fully dressed Ginny.

Harry sat Hermione down on the bed, took a deep breath, and said bravely, "I like Ron."

Hermione flushed red. "Oh… but what does that… I mean _I _don't-"

"Yes you do," chorused Harry and Ginny together.

"I… no I…" she trailed off.

Harry sat down on the bed next to her, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "He likes you and I'm… I'm _jealous_. I don't… I don't want to try and take him from you… so Ginny and I thought we could just… let_ him_ choose, you know?"

Hermione nodded slowly. "Did he… did he say he likes me?"

Harry laughed. "He doesn't need to say it."

"Couldn't I… couldn't I just be with him?" asked Hermione longingly.

Harry brought her legs up to her chest and whispered unhappily, "_Yeah_… yeah you could."

Hermione didn't fail to notice her tone and said desperately, "But if I… he won't… I don't have a chance, do I? You're Harriet Potter for God's sake!"

"Ron doesn't burn holes into the table with his glare when Harriet Potter looks at another boy," Harry muttered, picking at the edge of the sheets.

Hermione sighed heavily. "Oh Harry, I just… alright we'll… we'll let him choose."

"Are you sure, Mione?" asked Harry hopefully, squeezing the brown-haired girl's waist.

"Yes, I'm sure," said Hermione slowly. "But… we can't let Lavender get him!"

"Lavender?" asked Harry, perplexed.

"Er… yes. She snogged him on the train."

"She… _she snogged him?"_ yelled Harry, bristling.

"That's what he said," said Hermione with a sour look upon her face.

A tiny piece of the sympathy and developing warmth she carried for the blonde girl disappeared with a poof. It was wrong to suddenly develop resentment for her roommate; for Quirrell's victim. _But Ron is mine_… _ours… not Big-Bubby Brown's._

Grinning she took Hermione's hand and pulled her back to their room. Harry dug into her trunk furiously.

Hermione knelt down next to her, peering in to the enlarged-on-the-inside space. "What are you looking for Harry?"

Harry grabbed the bag of lipstick charm candies. "These, here… take one. Maybe they'll… I dunno… give us a leg up on her… since we lack where Lavender excels," she said with a giggle.

Hermione smirked impishly, pulled out a glittering dark red candy, and popped it into her mouth. Harry stared open-mouthed as her lips turned the same sparkling shade of sultry red right in front of her eyes._ I love magic._

Harry reached in and withdrew a bright pink candy. Its sweet strawberry flavor tingled in her mouth as she chewed. She ran to the bathroom mirror to find that her lips had turned a glossy bubblegum pink. _Oh yes... I like these._

Ginny walked into the bathroom and froze. Big amber eyes roamed over Harry's face. "Wow… _Harry_… that makes you look so…" Ginny trailed off; she was rubbing a spot just above her heart.

Even though Harry didn't find out what she looked like, Ginny's words carried a tone she had never heard before in _anyone's_ voice. It was thick, like molasses; sweet, like honey; and… something. It made her skin tingle. "Are you alright, Gin?"

"Yeah… yeah I'm fine. I just… my chest feels tight."

"From flying maybe?" asked Harry, walking to her and placing a hand over Ginny's.

"Oh… yeah, maybe."

"I know what will help… Dinner! I'm starving."

Ginny rubbed Harry's stomach affectionately. "Surprise surprise."

They called to Hermione and made their way down to the common room.

Things… were a bit hectic.

Someone… _the twins_… had given Trevor the Toad an engorgement potion. The toad's now four foot wide body was hopping all over the furniture in mighty leaps while Neville chased after him rather uselessly. Harry ducked beneath the trajectory path of the flying toad and ran to Ron, who was still absorbed in his game despite the chaos.

She looked down at the board and chuckled. He had mate in two moves. "Why are you torturing John here, Ron? Queen to E6, Rook to E5 and mate."

John sighed and knocked over his King while Ron muttered grumpily, "Spoilsport. Just trying to give the bloke a fighting- what in Merlin's pants is on your mouth?"

"Lipstick," answered Harry in a soft, tentative voice.

"Why are you wearing lipstick?"

"Because I'm a girl and I want to."

Ron gulped and his ears turned pink. "Oh... it… it looks really nice."

Her heart flipped. "Thanks." She punched him lightly in the arm. "Come on. Let's go see who can eat the most roast beef."

"You're on, mate."

Five minutes later, Harry had a sumptuous pile of food in front of her. The smell of it made her cackle in delight.

She was halfway through her second portion, listening to Ron and Hermione argue about napkin etiquette, when someone rudely poked her in the back of the head. Harry turned in her seat; completely ready to tell some plonker off.

But no one was there.

She turned to Ginny, thinking the redhead was maybe having a laugh, but her friend was deeply involved in an intimate relationship with her soup.

And then it happened again.

She turned quickly, searching for the perpetrator.

Two eyes, black like long dark tunnels, were staring at her from the head table. She met the gaze and Harry could suddenly feel the whole _disgusting_ tendril that was pushing roughly at her mind.

She flashed back to the room with Quirrell; she was staring into demonic red eyes as Voldemort raped her mind, plunging into the corridor of her memories.

But she had to admit… Voldemort's touch had been almost gentle. Severus Snape's, however, was not. He was rushing down the corridor, frantically bludgeoning down the doors to her memories. He was obviously searching for something.

It was really too bad for him that Harry knew a basic, and yet effective method of how to do this thanks to her birthday books. She gathered all of her willpower, all of her magic, and all of her mind. She gathered every little bit of everything that she was into a tight ball and placed it into a solid room with one door that she promptly slammed shut. Harry grinned and imagined a photo hanging from the door of her flipping him off.

Snape's face contorted in anger and he barreled against the wooden barrier.

Harry growled, pictured the door turning to steel, and pushed at the other side with her mind, reinforcing it against Snape's thunderous blows.

But he was strong… _too_ strong. He burst into the room after ten or so pounds and Harry, frightened, did the only thing she could. Forming her hammer, lacing it with her very worst memories, she slammed it down on the offending tendril.

Snape fell out of his chair.

His nauseating touch fell away and Harry rode the tendril, quite without purpose, back into Snape's mind. There was a solid steel wall in front of her but she could hear his surface thoughts. She almost drowned in them.

_Lily. _

_Does she forgive me? _

_Lily. _

_Does she love me? _

_Lily. _

_Lily. _

_Lily. _

_Find Lily. _

_Lily. _

_My Love._

_Lily. _

_My Lily._

Harry ripped herself away, closing her eyes tightly… and found that someone else was touching her mind, knocking politely at the outer walls. She recognized the soft mannerism. It was Dumbledore. Her eyes swiveled to half-moon spectacles and another tendril appeared, but it didn't enter the corridor.

Harry didn't hear him speak. She just… _knew_. He was proud of her; he wanted her to leave the hall; he would have a talk with Snape.

She spooned several more piles of food onto her plate, picked it up, and hurriedly left for the common room.

Ensconced in the room of scarlet and gold, she counted roughly two minutes before Ginny burst through the portrait hole. "What was that about, you nutter?"

"_Snape," _Harry spat venomously, waving her fork in the air in indignant protest. "He broke into my mind looking for my mum. He was worse than Voldemort. The bastard was tearing my bloody head apart!" Harry leaned back into the couch she was occupying and stabbed a few green-beans with her fork. "I fought him off… but my head is killing me."

"How did you… how did you fight him off?" asked Ginny amazed, lifting up Harry's legs from the couch and sliding her lap underneath them.

Harry smiled, wiggling her toes on Ginny's belly. "With skill, my dear Ginnykins."

Ginny raised her eyebrow.

Harry stuck out her tongue.

Ginny growled.

Harry crossed her eyes.

Ginny wiggled her fingers threateningly on Harry's ankles.

Harry cringed as she lost their battle. "Fine. You win. Leave my knees alone."

The redhead's hand started to inch up her leg.

"Gin… don't you dare."

She cocked her head at Harry, blew her a kiss, and proceeded to dig her fingers into the ticklish weak spots.

They fell off the couch as Harry squirmed and laughed. They rolled... and she found herself on top of Ginny in a straddle. All of a sudden, she was feeling something completely new. _Completely wonderful._

Her skirt had risen up and Ginny's head was right between her upper thighs; the redhead's breath was hot and heavy on the skin next to the lining of Harry's knickers. It sent an intense shiver up her spine and all the way back down to her toes.

Letting out a soft gasp, she quickly removed herself and flopped down next to the girl onto the soft rug.

As they sat there by the fire, talking about Ron and Quidditch and school and what they should do come winter break, and how Ginny would marry Tom if he had a body, Harry couldn't help but feel that they should be doing something else _besides_ talking; something… _more._

She took Ginny's hand and examined it, playing with the fingers in her lap. She remembered exactly where and how she had kissed it by the stream; how _good_ her skin tasted. _Could she do that again?_ _That had been-_

"Harry," said Ginny heavily, cutting off her train of thought. "You never told me what happened last night."

"Oh… yeah." Harry said, dropping the smooth hand. She told the tale slowly, trying to remember as much detail as she could.

When Harry had finally finished, Ginny leaned into her and asked, "Who were all those people?"

"I didn't recognize many names," Harry replied, scratching at her head, "but I'm absolutely positive all the people I experienced the visions from were the same man. He felt the same throughout. The same… _hate…_ was in his mind. And… they were all Parseltongues… like me. He had… his snake was brutal."

Harry put her head in her hands. She tried to block out the grotesque images of the bodies of gutted old man littering a stone temple floor, their blood staining the marble as the snake slowly consumed them. "I'm… I'm kidding myself, you know? Being a Parseltongue isn't a _gift_. Alice would kill for me with a word; would drown herself at my command.

Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry's shoulders. "Because she loves you."

Harry shook her head. "Snakes don't _love._ Even though I love her… she only thinks we're _allies_ or some rubbish. Snakes don't even have a word for love. No… I _control_ her… completely. People shouldn't be able to have that type of control over anyone or anything. It's black magic… _real_ black magic, Gin. It… it's just like my dream. Voldemort forced people to torture and kill their loved ones… and then kill themselves. He could make me kill _you._ Dumbledore keeps telling me that he knows I'll always choose to do good with any type of magic I own. But what if someone had the power to take away my choice? Parseltongue is exactly the same, isn't it? But instead of people, it's with an animal."

Ginny cupped her cheek. "But _you_ would never do that. You'd never make _Alice_ do that. And that's the difference. Any magic can be used for good… or it can be used for evil. Someone could shoot a Scourgify into someone else's eyes. That would be terribly painful. The barmy old man has got it right, Harry."

Again, staring into Ginny's big bottomless amber pools, she felt the need to do more than talk.

That night, curled into Ginny's arms, Harry experienced the same thing. There was something they were missing… something right in front of her face. It was so… _infuriating._

Under the covers the redhead's fingers trailed lazily around Harry's bellybutton. She had only ever experienced a touch like this back in St. Mungo's when Ginny had trailed a loving hand down her cheek.

"Gin," she whispered into the dark.

"Mmm?"

"I… feel a bit weird."

"You _are_ a bit weird," Ginny mumbled into her neck. "Go to sleep. Sleepy-time."

That made Harry smile. Really _truly _smile. Here was a girl that could pick on her and still make it sound complimentary and loving. Biting down on the twigs of her little plush broomstick, she closed her eyes, breathed in strawberries, flipped the hourglass, and wiggled into Ginny's body for a nice long rest.

…

…

…

…

…

There was a shriek of terror.

0000

0000

0000

0000

Ginny opened her eyes as Harry rolled over in the bed, pushing her chest into the palm of Ginny's hand.

She glanced at the clock. 3:00 AM.

"Unh..."

Grinning at Harry's little moans to which she had become so accustomed, Ginny withdrew her hand from beneath Harry's shirt and nuzzled the back of the girl's neck for relief.

Ginny had felt so strange yesterday. Upon seeing Harry with her lipstick, which made her look far older than her actual age, Ginny's heart and sternum had… _tightened_. It was an aching tightness… that was the only way to describe it. She knew instinctively that Harry was the cause... but she didn't understand _why. _Ironically, Harry was also the cure. Ginny didn't feel it now; didn't feel the ache when they were touching.

Harry flipped over to face her and made a grunting noise as her little toy broomstick found its way to her mouth. Ginny giggled and lightly brushed the black hair away from the small pink lips. _You're ridiculously cute sometimes, you know that? No wonder the boys clamor._ Leaning down, she brushed her lips on the sleeping girl's knuckle. _Love you._

She turned over to get up to use the bathroom… and froze.

A boy, his face clearly visible in a patch of moonlight, was standing next to their bed. He was staring intently at Harry; his dark brown eyes fixed on her in a malevolent glare. He had black hair and… pale, almost _translucent_ skin.

At her sharp intake of breath, his eyes swiveled to Ginny's own... and then… he _smiled._ She was reminded of several illustrations of the terrifying old horror story about Babbity Rabbity and the talking, grinning, tree stump that tricked her into giving it her soul. The boy, like the stump, had the most sickening twisted grin; it was manic and dark, promising pain and horror to its recipients; it made her want to wretch; it was absolutely terrifying; it was… _evil_.

And yet… the most horrifying thing of all… was that she felt herself… _grinning_ back at him.

She tore her gaze away and screamed at the top of her lungs. Harry awoke with a start. Rolling on top of Ginny, she grabbed a wand off the bedside table and pointed it wildly around the dark room.

From what Ginny could see through the crook of Harry's arm, there was nothing there. The boy had gone.

"Gin, what-"

"There was a boy," said Ginny quickly. "He was standing over us! But… he… he just disappeared."

Her wand raised, Harry left the bed and walked over to the door. From the rattle it made, it was apparently still locked. She gave Ginny an odd look. "Are you… are you sure it wasn't just a dream, Gin?"

Ginny nodded rapidly, still trembling from the boy's expression. "I had already woken up when I saw him… unless I'm still dreaming."

Harry scratched her head. "Don't think you are. Maybe I am." She pinched herself on the shoulder. "Nope.

"I swear he was there!" said Ginny desperately. "He was there and… and he was _horrible,_ Harry.

"Did… did he speak? Did he have a polish accent?"

"He didn't say anything… he just… stared at us." _And he grinned… and I grinned with him… why did I?_

Harry held her wand… _or my wand_… aloft and whispered, "_Lumos!"_ A blinding white light as bright as the sun burst forth from the tip. Night turned to day. Harry checked under the bed and in the bathroom. "Oh… wait a moment," muttered Harry, snapping her fingers. She opened her mouth and hissed, "Ossaa, essafaliss ofussoss nala saiaassiieth kassaa efissassath."

Ginny heard a return hiss from the windowsill. _Alice would have seen!_

"Kassaa essheaalaarisshii."

Another hiss.

Harry sighed. "I think you were imagining things, Gin. Alice says that no one came through the door or the window… and when you screamed there was no one next to the bed."

_But… he was there._

Harry pulled her out from the covers. "Come on, no point in sleeping again. It's almost six and a nice hot bath will sort this whole thing out."

Despite her fear that the boy was still in the room, Ginny smiled. Harry did love her baths. She believed in their power like Mum believed in the power of tea.

Although they hadn't bathed together since the night she flew to Hogwarts, Ginny wasn't fazed at all when Harry got into the tub with her. There was only one bath after all. It even felt more comfortable to have the girl with her… it soothed her ache. And what's more… she needed comfort.

_Why did I grin back?_

Every few minutes Harry would fall asleep in the water and Ginny would have to poke her in the tummy with a toe. If the boy came back she was _not_ going to be the only one that saw him. Ginny reached over and pulled Harry into her lap from the other side of the tub. "I did see him. I promise."

"I… I believe you," Harry said softly, leaning back against her chest and yawning tremendously. "If you see him again we should tell McGonagall. Will you wash my hair, Gin? I'm tired."

Ginny snorted. "More like lazy."

"Please," Harry whispered into her ear; her breath sending wonderful little goosebumps down Ginny's neck.

"Oh fine." Ginny's stomach fluttered pleasantly as she squeezed out some lavender scented shampoo from the silver tap and slowly ran her hands through the thick black hair. "Let's go flying today."

"Mmmm…" Harry's soapy head fell onto her shoulder. "Draco followed me to the stands yesterday. He said he's got a Nimbus two- OH SHITE!" yelled Harry, bolting upright. "I'VE GOT QUIDDITCH PRACTICE!" Harry dove under the water and scrubbed her hair furiously. After the quickest wash Ginny had ever seen anyone take, Harry kissed her on the cheek, jumped up, grabbed her clothes, and ran from the bathroom.

Ginny looked nervously around the empty bathroom and sank down into the water, submerging herself all the way up to her nose, feeling safer beneath the surface of the hot bath . _Pull yourself together. You're a Gryffindor. _She ran over the encounter with the boy in her mind. _Maybe he's a ghost. He was so pale and almost… almost… wait._

_Almost six?_

_6:00 AM?_

Ginny leapt out of the tub and ran to the clock in her room. It read 6:20.

"That's impossible!" said Ginny, to no one in particular. "It was… It was only three o'clock when I woke up!"

She picked up a quill and grabbed Tom from her desk.

_Tom, do you know of any spells that can make someone lose 3 hours of time?_

_**Yes, Ginny Weasley… I know many. The Oblivation jinx and the Confundus charm are two of the most common. Mind magics such as possession can lead to a loss of time. Why do you ask?**_

_I think someone used one on me! I woke up this morning at 3:00 AM. There was a boy standing by my bed. I woke Harry up but the boy had suddenly disappeared. Then, not five minutes later it was almost 6:00 AM._

_**Yes. That does seem plausible. Tell me… What did the boy look like?**_

_He was older. At least sixteen. He had black hair and brown eyes._

_**What color was his skin, Ginny Weasley? Was it light?**_

_Yes, he was pale. Almost see through. I couldn't tell as it was still dark, but he might have been a ghost. Do you think so?_

_**I cannot guess. Ghosts cannot use magic. Perhaps he was more than a ghost, but not quite a boy.**_

_I'm scared Tom._

_**Don't be scared, Ginny Weasley. Harry Potter will surely protect you if the boy comes again. She would surely save you. Will she not?**_

_I think so._

_**Will she or will she not?**_

_I said I think so._

_**Will she or will she not?**_

_I said she will, Tom. Are your charms faulty or something?_

_Tom?_

_Tom? Hello?_

"Great," muttered Ginny. "I've offended my diary."

As breakfast didn't start for another hour, she dressed quickly and decided to go down to the pitch to watch the team practice. When she reached the top of the Gryffindor stands, she was surprised to find that she wasn't alone. Ron was sitting in the middle of the bleachers, staring up at a certain black-haired seeker with a goofy smile on his face.

_Harry will be happy. At least she's gotten his attention… even if he does favor Hermione. The great prat. I want green-eyed black-haired nieces and nephews! _She giggled to herself and snuck up behind him. Leaning down to his ear, she drew in a deep breath and shouted, "**OI RON!**"

He squealed in a higher pitch than she doubted even Harry could.

"Smooth, Ronniekins."

He glared at her, clutching his chest. "Piss off! You scared me half to death!"

Ginny giggled. "Yes… I _noticed_."

One of the twins sailed past them on his broom, yelling, "Pipe down, you wankers!" We're practicing!"

Ron stuck up two fingers as Ginny plopped down in the seat next to him. "Sooo… what brings you out of bed before breakfast, Ron?" she asked with a knowing smile plastered across her face.

"Nothing."

Ginny snorted. "Bollocks. Harry looks really nice with a bit of make-up on, doesn't she, Ron?"

He refused to answer her, but his pink ears told her everything she needed to know.

Ginny leaned back to watch the 'best chance Gryffindor has had in years to win the cup,' practice.

Harry made everything look so easy. Her flying was more _art_ than sport. She did triple corkscrews, sloth rolls, hundred meter dives, Tungle Loops, Wronski Feints, Ballentine Turns, and McShea Twists. She was _made_ for the air. Ginny found it hilarious that the Captain, Oliver Wood, missed several shots because he had been watching slack-jawed as Harry executed Chaser formation breaks with absolute perfection.

When practice ended, Ginny rushed down to the changing rooms to tell her about Ron and the time she had lost. Fred and George tried to stop her at the entrance. "Only one ickle squirt-" said Fred.

"-allowed at a time," finished George.

Ginny swatted them both on the sides of their heads and marched proudly into the girls' lockers. The air was thick with the smell of broom polish. It made her feel a bit lightheaded. Harry was sitting on a bench, chatting with a brown-haired girl and dutifully rubbing her broom down with Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish. She smiled when she saw Ginny walking towards her. "Hey Gin… were you watching?"

Ginny nodded and sat next to her. "Yeah. You looked brilliant, Harry. Guess who _else_ got up early to watch you?"

Harry smiled like Christmas had come early. "He did?"

"Yup…and I have something else to tell you," said Ginny.

"What is it?"

_Wait._

Ginny's mind went painfully blank.

_What was I going to say? _

"I… I can't… remember," she whispered, perplexed.

It felt like, whatever it was, it was hovering just out of her reach, like someone was dangling it above her fingertips, pulling it away when she moved closer. She knew that what she had to tell Harry was important too; extremely important… and yet… _nothing._

Harry patted Ginny's knee. "It'll come to you. That happens to me all the time. And then, when I'm thinking about something completely random like… I dunno, a Satsuma, it'll just pop right back into my head."

"Why were you thinking about Satsumas?"

"Because," said Harry with a silly grin on her face, "I like to say Satsuma."

"I think your brain might be a Satsuma," replied Ginny.

For the four days left in the week, Ginny thought of Satsumas, trying desperately to remember what it was she needed to tell Harry… but the thought never came to her. It nagged at the back of her mind; it was like a festering cut that she desperately wanted to itch.

Ginny tried to put it out of her mind as she walked down to the Quidditch pitch with Harry on Saturday morning. She had to prepare herself. In just three practices, Fred and George had dubbed Ginny 'the official mascot of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.'

_Just because I show up to watch Harry fly. Gits._

And it had caught on.

Wood, fanatic that he was, had given her a uniform and exuberantly told her that it was her 'duty as a Gryffindor' to stand in the crowds and garner support. Despite Harry's protests that it wasn't fair for them to make her do it, Ginny had agreed. It felt nice to be 'a part' of the team. Harry had then insisted that Oliver let her have a tryout for reserve seeker and chaser. And that tryout… was now. She tried not to think about it and tuned back in to Harry's rant.

"- and Lockhart is just… UGH… you know?" asked Harry disgustedly. "He wants an entire essay about how he singlehandedly defeated an army of malicious ghouls. Single-handedly my foot!"

"He's not as bad as Snape though, is he?"

"Well… yeah, I suppose not. I can't believe Snape's treating you like that, _just_ because you're my friend."

The potions master _had_ been treating Ginny rather horribly; picking on her almost as much as he did Harry. He would glare at her and mutter about red hair under his breath.

In the changing rooms, Ginny slipped into a practice uniform while she listened to Oliver give an attempt at a rousing morale-boosting speech through the wall. He was still going when she finished so Ginny stepped out onto the field to do some practice loops on the school-owned Cleensweep.

She had just started to shake out her nerves when Harry soared up next to her and asked excitedly, "You ready?"

All her nervousness flooded back into her body. Harry must have noticed her expression as they looped the field, because she drifted closer and caught Ginny's arm. Their charms spun to meet in midair. "Just fly how _we_ fly together," she cried out above the wind.

Ginny nodded, uncertainty washed away by Harry's reassuring pearly-white smile; a smile that shone just for her. The little ache in her chest abated if only for a moment.

Angelina Johnson lobbed her the Quaffle and she caught it deftly. It felt so much different than the old ratty one they had at home. She tried to adjust accordingly in her mind for its weight as she blasted toward the posts as fast as the broom could carry her.

_No wind. About two kilo's lighter. I don't have the strength to get it past him on the inside hoop._

_Right then. Three out of five. Let's go._

Right at the shooting line she wrenched the broom upwards, tossed Quaffle downwards, looped upside down, came around, and pounded the falling red ball towards the left hoop with her fist.

"GOAL!" The twins shouted simultaneously. "An eleven year old girl-"

"-puts one past Wood! For shame!"

Ginny smirked appreciatively at the shocked look on the Captain's face. He had clearly underestimated her.

She did manage to put away three, but she was pretty sure he let one go in on purpose. Back on the ground, Harry jumped on her and they fell to the ground giggling.

A deep voice rang out across the pitch, "Awww, that's precious innit?"

A group of people in green and silver robes were walking onto the field, shiny broomsticks in hand.

Wood slammed into the ground next to them, staggering slightly as he dismounted the broom. "FLINT!" he yelled at the large gorilla-like Slytherin captain. "This is our practice time! We get the morning slot! You can clear off now!"

"Plenty of room for all of us Wood," Flint said nastily in his disturbingly low pitched drawl.

"BUT I BOOKED THE BLOODY FIELD. I BOOKED IT!"

"Ah," whispered Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. _'I Prof-' _"

Harry snatched the note out of his hands so fast Ginny had only seen a blur. She promptly tore it up. "Professor Snape can stuff it."

"I'll tell him you said so, Harry." The blonde boy from Flourish and Blotts, Draco Malfoy, stepped through the larger Slytherin players. He had a sly smile on his face as he leaned on a shiny black broom that read, 'Nimbus 2001,' on the handle. The rest of the team carried identical broomsticks.

Harry stomped up to him. "I knew you bought your way onto the team you slimy git. Seventy Thousand galleons that could have gone to a good cause went towards boosting your pride."

Flint stepped forward, "Back off you spoilt little snot. Draco here made the team before we even knew about the brooms. I'd say he could give you a run for your money."

"Prove it. Play us. Right here… right now." Harry shoved the giant boy, but only managed to push herself backwards onto the ground. Ginny ran forward as the Slytherins laughed uproariously, but Malfoy had already offered her his hand. She saw something unspoken pass between the two… and Harry took it. Harry gave him a funny look and said again, "Prove it."

No referees, practice padding only, and two groups of people that disliked each other greatly led to one bloody ferocious game. Harry took hit after hit. Ginny flinched as Flint crushed her friend against the wall of the pitch.

But she didn't go down.

_She'll… she'll never go down._

Malfoy was indeed 'proving it.' He matched Harry in skill for the first twenty minutes of the game, his far superior broom even giving him the edge _until_... the black-haired girl got angry. She was suddenly going faster than anyone on the field; pulling impossible turns; sweeping the grass on diving feints; barreling through every formation that the Slytherins managed to organize.

Ginny spotted a flash of gold right below her. The Snitch was hovering not ten feet from the ground! Harry was of course already shooting towards it from across the field, Malfoy hot on her heels, the entire rest of the Slytherin team between her and the little golden ball.

_Neither of them will get it when they all defensively clump like that. It will disappear again._

And then… Harry did something that Ginny would never, in her entire life, forget.

She jumped.

She jumped right off her broom, pushing it downwards underneath the oncoming group. In mid-air, she placed a foot on the back of a Slytherin and jumped _again_ to the next player. She then _leapt_ towards the Snitch in a beautiful swan dive, catching the little ball with a scream of triumph.

In that moment, Ginny and Harry were almost close enough to touch. Green eyes flashed towards Ginny's and for a moment, time slowed. The colors of the world spiraled in exotic harmony; interconnecting and shifting about. Harry and her emerald eyes were the only real things left in the blurry world.

And then Harry fell.

CRUNCH.

The girl slammed into the side of the stands and Ginny heard the disgusting sound of snapping bone. Trembling with worry, she took the stairs to the ground entire flights at a time. Worming her way into the tight-knit circle of players, she knelt next to a battered Harry.

Her nose and leg were clearly broken, and by the way she was clutching her chest, Ginny bet that some ribs had snapped as well. "Harry," she said in a whisper. "You… you _idiot!_ Why would you do something like that? It wasn't even a real game!"

Harry winced, squeezing out a few tears of pain, but she smiled at the same time. Two of her front teeth were missing. "Every game is a real game," she mumbled back with a gasp.

Madame Pomfrey tutted loudly when Wood and surprisingly, _Flint_ had carried Harry into the Hospital Wing. She said it would take hours to heal her up due to some internal damage.

Before he left, Flint stuck out his hand towards Harry and grunted. She shook it warily and the enormous boy left with another grunt.

Ginny saw Harry's eyes flit to Malfoy. He nodded and she nodded back in another unspoken understanding. The blonde boy left quietly as well. One by one the players filed out, saying their cheerful goodbyes, or in the Slytherins' cases, giving appreciative grunts.

Soon, it was just she and Harry left in the Hospital wing.

"You're a nut case," said Ginny quietly.

"I know," replied Harry with a soft smile.

Ginny put her head down on Harry's arm. "Completely bonkers."

"I know."

"A total-"

"I get it, Gin," Harry said, rubbing Ginny's hand and closing her eyes to have a rest.

However, it was a _short_ rest.

Hermione and Ron burst into the Hospital wing. Ron rather poorly expressed his outrage that she had jumped off a broom by waving his arms and shouting random bits of phrase like, "I NEVER!" and "SO YOU WANT!" Hermione on the other hand, said nothing, but she scoffed rather excessively.

Harry ultimately had to clap loudly to get their attention. "Guys, I'm fine!"

"Like hell you are," said Ron. "Internal bleeding is what Fred told me. Bloody hell, Harry! You could have died! Just to win a game. I love Quidditch but I loooooost your quill." His ears went pink.

Out of the corner of her eye Ginny saw Hermione fidget and move closer to Ron.

Harry giggled. "I lost your quill too, Ron. But I just… I dunno. I had a point to prove. I love the game and no one is going to treat it like it's a joke by buying their entire team top end-brooms to outstrip everyone else and win even when you lack the talent."

"You _were_ amazing out there, Harry," said Ginny quietly. She understood… sort of. "I've never seen anything like it."

Harry's brilliant emeralds searched her face and her thumb reached out to caress Ginny's hand. "Thanks, Gin."

An hour later, around noon, Ginny left the Hospital wing to get some lunch. She was just about to turn the corner to leave the second floor corridor, when someone behind her whispered in her ear. _"Ginny."_

She whirled around, pulling out her wand, shivering from…

_What is this? _

Her clothes were soaking wet.

"What?" cried Ginny out loud.

_Did someone spell me? _

"OI! Whoever did that is going to get it!"

There was no one around though.

Something was nagging at the back of her mind. Something she had to tell Harry. Something _really_ important… but... she couldn't remember. It slipped through her fingers like sand.

Grumbling moodily, Ginny trooped back to Gryffindor Tower to change. It was surprisingly full considering it was lunchtime. She changed as quickly as she could because she was absolutely starving. Flipping her hair in the mirror, she glanced at the clock.

She glanced again.

She outright stared at it.

4:30 PM

It all flooded back to her. _The Chamber, the Snake, THE DIARY! TOM! OH GOD! HARRY! _

"_Ginny,"_ whispered a voice from behind her, somewhere near the bed.

She sat up in bed.

"Hello?"

No answer.

The clock read 6:00 PM.

_Just a dream then. I must have dozed off. Oh Merlin, I'm starving._

Something was nagging at the back of her mind. Something she had to tell Harry. Something _really_ important… but... she couldn't remember. It slipped through her fingers like sand.

At dinner that night, Professor McGonagall came over to her and said, "There you are, Miss Weasley. I've been looking for you all day. Your detention with Professor Snape will take place tonight. He expects you in the dungeons at seven o' clock sharp. Don't be late."

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"_Kill."_

Harry's eyes snapped open and she sat up.

"_Come… come to me.… Let me rip you.… Let me tear you…. Let me kill you…."_

"Hello?" whispered Harry into the still air of the darkened Hospital wing. "Who's there?"

There was no answer.

"Hello?" she shouted loudly.

Madam Pomfrey's office door swung open and the medi-witch came bustling out with a slightly annoyed look on her face. "No need to shout, Deary."

"Oh, no," said Harry quickly. "I wasn't calling you, Madam Pomfrey. I thought I heard a voice. I _definitely_ heard a voice."

Madame Pomfrey chuckled. "The walls are silenced, Miss. Potter. We are the only people in the wing. I _was _playing a bit of music on the wireless however… Perhaps you misheard it?

_I don't think so._ "Yeah… maybe you're right." Harry twisted her body experimentally. "Madam Pomfrey... I know it's late but would it be alright for me to go back to Gryffindor Tower? I don't sleep well here."

The matron frowned. "Say ah."

"Ahhhhhhhhh."

The woman pointed her wand at Harry's mouth and did several complex spells. "Yes, I suppose that will be alright, Miss Potter. You've healed very nicely. I'll just give you a pass. Let's avoid jumping off brooms from now on, shall we?

"Yes Ma'am."

Back at the tower, Harry opened the door to 'their room' quietly, not wanting to wake Ginny. She crept in, only to find that Ginny wasn't asleep. She was sitting upright in bed, staring at the grandfather clock, a look of misery on her face, dark circles under her eyes.

"Gin!" Harry cried, rushing to her side, extremely concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Harry! Oh thank god! I have to... to tell you... to tell..." Ginny trailed off, gazing intently at the clock.

Harry rubbed her back supportively. "Have to tell me what, Gin?"

Ginny opened her mouth, but no words came out.

CRASH

Frances' pot crashed to the floor, and the little cactus rolled to a stop at her feet. One of his tiny branches had snapped off and he was squinting at her, clearly upset. She picked him up, repaired his clay pot, and found the source of his fall from the window-sill. Alice was squirming violently around on the stone, twisting her thin body in ways that surely should have been hurting her.

Harry picked her up gently.

Alice constricted in a painfully tight coil around Harry's wrist and bit down upon her hand.

"Ouch!" cried Harry. "Alice! What's wrong?"

_"The king hass come!" _Alice dropped onto the table twisting and flailing.

Harry ogled her. "What?"

_"The King hass come! The King hass come! The King hass come! The King hass come! The King hass come!..."_

Harry covered her ears to block out the tiny snake's thunderous yells, but even though she could no longer hear the hiss, Alice's voice still echoed in her mind.

_"The King hass come. __The King hass come. __The King hass come. __The King hass come!_" Alice stopped twisting. _"Death hass come, Chica."_

"What do you mean? Alice, I don't understand!"

But Alice did not speak again. She coiled tightly, hiding her head from Harry's view.

Frustrated, she walked back over to Ginny, who was still staring at the clock. When Harry took her hands, the redhead jumped a foot in the air. "Oh, Harry! You're back. You scared me. Are you alright? You look all pale. Here, get in." Ginny wiggled over and patted the bed, smiling at her as if absolutely nothing was wrong.

"I scared you? You scared me! What the bloody hell _was_ that?"

Ginny cocked her head and smiled at her as if she was joking around. "What was what?"

Harry laughed. "Were you having me on? You were all... I dunno. And you said you needed to tell me something."

"Yeah, I do... still can't remember what it is though." She pulled Harry downwards onto the bed. "I've been thinking about Satsumas day and night. Come on, get in. I need a hug."

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**Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page. Contains some NSFW content.**

**New art up.**

**Review! Feedback really is appreciated even though I update regardless.**

**Looking for nitpicky betas- grammar specific**

Had so much fun writing this chapter.

You may be asking why Ron is so much more aware of Hermione than in canon. The answer is Harry. She knocked into him outside the train station bathroom causing him to meet Hermione before they even got on the train… which leads to him helping her with the suitcase… and the wiping of his nose while he stood baffled… and the rather insensitive comments he made to her on the train… which intrinsically leads to everything else. It always comes back to Harry.

Harry couldn't recognize the language as Parseltongue because she couldn't hear the hiss from the pipes. Just like in canon, she only hears the voice inside her mind.


	12. Interlude 1: A Sound of Thunder

Right after I posted Chapter 8: The Book from No One my visitor count cut in half.

I wish people would review and tell me why they leave the story. *sadface* I've only gotten positive reviews. Where are all the ones that say 'this story blows… do this better,' huh?

Don't get too hung up on Harry with others. It should be obvious that Harry and Ginny are in love. They just don't understand it yet. How could anyone at that age? They _will_ be together and there is not a force in the world that will stop that from happening.

Enjoy.

**Interlude: A Sound of Thunder**

_The jungle was wide and full of twitterings, rustlings, murmurs, and sighs._

_Suddenly it all ceased, as if someone had shut a door._

_Silence._

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There was a sound of thunder.

Rain pounded down against the darkened windows of his shop. He had had a poor sales day and was in a rather terrible mood. _Malfoy thinks he can just come into my shop and force me to buy his tripe. Not even worth half of what I paid for it. But a Malfoy gets what a Malfoy wants, doesn't he? Bloody Death Eaters. Flinging threats like the Dark Lord is still alive._

The bell above the door rang with a tinkle as it swung inward.

A man, face shrouded by the hood of a black cloak, stepped into the shop through the curtain of water cascading from the roof.

"What can I help you with, sir?" he subserviently asked the man who was walking slowly up to the counter.

There was a flash of lightning; it eerily illuminated the horrible face beneath the cloak. The piercing stare was unmistakable.

"You!" he gasped, terrified.

There was a sound of thunder, its boom shaking the foundations; shaking his wares; shaking his very bones.

"Yes… _me,_" the man whispered, slowly withdrawing a wand from the depths of his robes.

"But you're dead!"

"Perhaps I am," the man muttered benignly, his deep voice lilting with an accent that he had not heard in half a century. "Perhaps I am not. Nonetheless, I need information. Information which I know you have. You will tell me the town of residence of one Mr. Marvolo Gaunt."

"I don't know what-"

There was a burst of putrid orange spellfire; it reeked of brimstone.

Barnabus Borgin fell to his knees as the dark spell slammed into his ribcage, cutting deep into the flesh, cleanly slicing through his right lung, and obliterating half of his chest. Barnabus looked down at the wound in surprise. He felt what was left of his stomach shift sickeningly as it began to slip out of his body, but the spell was meant to cauterize the wound. The gaping hole burned over quickly, sending shockwaves of agony to his brain. He let out a violent cough, spewing crimson liquid and little chunks of his insides all over the back of the counter.

"You have roughly two minutes before you drown in your own blood," said the man. "You could apparate away for help… but you will likely die before you receive it. So, tell me what I want to know… and I shall heal the wound."

"Little H-Hangleton," Barnabus moaned, choking in pain. "They lived in Little Hangleton." He could feel the blood pooling inside his ribcage. "Master, heal me, please!"

His old master circled the counter to kneel beside him. He reached out a hand and wiped away the blood streaming from Barnabus' lips. "Oh _Borgin_, my favorite spy," his master crooned, caressing his cheek. "You of _all_ people should know… that I am a liar and a cheat."

There was a sound of thunder. It almost drowned out his scream of misery.

"W-Why have y-you killed me, Master?" Barnabus cried out, tears streaming down his face. Spittle and blood sprayed onto the cloaked man's face. "Together, we could start again. The Reich could rise once more! Please!"

"No, my _dear_ Borgin, the Reich is dead. As am I. As you shall soon be. We are evil men… and we deserve no less." His master held out a hand and blessed Barnabus' forehead with the mark of the Hallows; the mark of the Greater Good. "Do not fear the end, old friend. Go now unto peace."

He couldn't breathe. He felt his heart stop pumping. Slowly, so very slowly, the world darkened. The very last thing Barnabus Borgin saw in his decidedly sinister life was a sad blue eye.

There was a sound of thunder that sung the coming of the end.

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"Lav," said Parvati cajolingly. "You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

Parvati rubbed her back in a soothing circular motion. The Indian girl said that she used the same rub to console Neville after a lesson with Snape. "If you go up to the Owlry again… you'll just make yourself feel worse."

"I'm not going up to the Owlry! Just get to dinner, Vati," mumbeled Lavender, staring out the large window into the stormy rose garden. "I'll be fine.

Parvati sighed and left her alone.

Lavender leaned her forehead onto the cold glass of the French window. She could feel the heavy raindrops pounding against it; could almost feel them on her skin. Lavender wanted nothing more than to step through these doors and out into the icy rain and tumultuous wind. She wanted to feel anything other than the way she was feeling, even if it meant getting pneumonia.

It wasn't always like this. Sometimes she was fine… cheerful. Sometimes she would laugh and flirt with Ron… well, _attempt_ to flirt with Ron that is.

But other times… times like today… times like when she visited the Owlry, where some part of her instinctively knew that that's where it had happened, she would fall into this: a state of all consuming hate for herself. She felt used. She felt broken. She felt _dirty._

At times like this one, the only thing Lavender could do to feel normal again was come here and stare at the roses. She didn't know why it helped; only that it did.

A soft sob and a sound of thunder brought her out of her reverie. It was the kind of small sob that broke your heart when you heard it. The gossip fiend within her couldn't resist finding out who had made that little cry. Lavender was truly surprised when she found its source.

Ginny Weasley, Ron's little sister and Harry's best friend, was sprawled across the floor between the T and the S shelves, sobbing into the pages of a blank book. She was deathly pale and the streaks on her cheeks indicated that she had been crying for days on end. Lavender knew intimately what that looked like. She placed her hand on the girl's shoulder and shook gently. "Hey… Ginny… Are you… Can you tell me what's wrong?"

The girl sat up quickly and grabbed at Lavender's shoulders. Ginny's eyes were bloodshot, manic, and swirling frantically in their sockets. Her voice came out in a raspy whisper. "Tell… Have to tell… Have to… Have to tell…" Her eyes widened with anguish and she held up the little black book as if she wanted to throw it away. Something, however, held her back… almost like it was physical restraint. "The book… the book isn't... The book… Have to… Have to tell H-"

Ginny flinched and whirled around, staring over her shoulder. But when she turned back around to face Lavender, she wasn't crying at all. She… was _grinning. _Ginny got up, winked at her, and walked away without another word.

Lavender sighed and walked back to her window.

But she didn't see a rose-garden through the glass.

She saw green scales, pointed and hook-shaped.

She saw fangs the length of her arm.

She saw enormous yellow eyes; yellow eyes that turned her blood cold; yellow eyes that sucked her mind dry; yellow eyes that turned her heart to stone.

"Lav!" Parvati cried, smiling down at her. "You're back!"

"Wh-What?" asked Lavender in confusion, sitting up. "I'm back? What do you mean? How… how did I get to the Hospital wing? I was _just_ in the Library!"

Parvati seemed so different than how she had looked before she had left for dinner. Her hair was pulled back in a long ponytail. Her face was… older. _She… she has breasts!_

"No, Lav…" said Parvati sadly. "Sweetie. This is going to be tough to accept… but… that was eight months ago."

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"They're in love, James. Deny it all you want but I've seen that look before," Lily said, wiggling her feet on his chest. "It used to follow me around in the hallways for hours on end in our seventh year. Who was that bloke again?"

James groaned resignedly, grabbed her legs, and pulled her into his lap. "Me."

"Oh, was it?" she asked with a sly smile.

"Don't tease me love. Not on the day I find out I'll never have grandchildren."

Lily grinned and loosed the top three buttons of her blouse. "Why would I want to tease you?" She leaned down and lightly bit at his neck.

The resounding moans he made had her soaked instantly. Lily crushed her lips onto his mouth as his rough hands slid onto her arse, pulling her tightly to his body. She could feel his muscles rippling beneath her.

With a thought their clothes were gone. Every now and then Lily enjoyed a nice session of kisses and slow tender thrusts, but neither of them were really that type of lover. They were rough and tumble. They were an 'up-against-the-wall, on-the-kitchen-table' couple. In seconds he was pounding into her and she couldn't stop herself from screaming his name… even though she would have screamed anyway. It always pushed him to new levels of performance. And he could _certainly_ perform adequately.

James' thumb fell to her button as his length thrusted upwards and her world exploded in everlasting bliss. A lightning storm pulsed within her sex. She could practically hear the sounds of the thunder. Her entire body trembled yet James didn't relent or slow. The other thumb and a warm pair of lips found her nipples and her climax doubled in intensity. She rode that wave for what could have been days… it probably _was _days in this place.

As they lay together after hours or days or years or centuries of lovemaking, James asked her if this was real. She sighed and lightly licked his collarbone. "You know it is. I love you, James Potter. I love you forever and ever."

His brown eyes sparkled as he nodded and she was drenched all over again. "Forever and ever, Lils."

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Molly stared down at the photograph fondly as the sound of the thunder of a week-long October storm rolled across the moor, rocking the top floor dangerously. She tapped her wand on the wall next to her and gasped as her entire core of magic emptied into the charms that kept the house together. She had never liked recharging the wards and the house charms. That was Arthur's job. She hated the _sucking_ sensation that accompanied the chore, while he rather fancied it.

Her attention returned to the photo of Harry's Birthday party. Ron and the little Granger girl were making eyes at each other when the other wasn't looking. It only half surprised her that nearly identical looks were passed between Harry and Ginny, except that they weren't hiding it. _Come now, love. You expected something like this. Six brothers. _

_But it is Harry Potter. I imagine there are plenty of boys and girls alike that share Ginny's feelings. Well… give it time. They'll grow out of it._

A little voice in her mind whispered to her, _'Would it really be so bad if they didn't?'_

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**I love same sex parents. *wink wink* James and Lily can only see Harry's life as it happens. I have NOT eliminated the possibility of children. Be patient my lovelies.**

**Review! Any and all opinions are welcome. I actually read and consider them.**

**If you bail on the fic… leave me a review and tell me why.**

**Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page. Contains some NSFW content for your viewing pleasure.**

Yes I know… not really a chapter. More like drabbles within a story. They just didn't really fit.

_Lav just can't catch a break can she?_


	13. Chapter 11: Nitwit Blubber Oddment Tweak

That burst of reviews for the interlude made me cry with joy. 200 reviews! Well… not really… since 20 of them are me answering questions.

I love you all. *happy face*

**It's October. Thus, the interlude**.

Lavender will receive no more punishment. She's had a hard life.

IMPORTANT: James and Lily can only see Harry's life as it happens. I have NOT eliminated the possibility of children. Be patient my lovelies.

Coming from the isolated wizarding mid-1900's-esque culture, James wouldn't have known anything about AI or IVF when he died in 1982. AI and IVF were not even commercialized until the late 70's.

I repeat… I have NOT eliminated the possibility of children.

Last bit wasn't a chapter. It was drabbles within the fic. I'll probably have a few interludes here and there. Not too many though.

**Beware. Time skips and PoV changes galore in this chapter. Read carefully.**

**Chapter 11: Nitwit Blubber Oddment Tweak**

'_Sensitivity to initial conditions' __means that each point in such a system is arbitrarily closely approximated by other points with significantly different future trajectories. Thus, an arbitrarily small perturbation of the current trajectory may lead to significantly different future behavior._

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_"Do you want one?"_

_Harry stared pointedly in the other direction as if the girl hadn't said a word. Ginny hoisted the bag off the seat and plopped it into her lap. With it, she scooted all the way down the bench to Harry's end and once they were knee to knee, pulled a neatly wrapped sandwich square out of the bag. _

_The redhead held it out to her. "It's alright… have one." Harry glanced down at the square but did not take it, nor look at Ginny. For some reason, she was breathing rather heavily, a knot stuck in her throat. Ginny sighed and said, "Oh come on, there's no use pretending anymore. I know you want one." She flashed Harry a sly smile. "I... __caught you in the act__. They do smell wonderful, don't they?" Ginny took Harry's hand in her own and placed it overtop the sandwich. "Please. Have one. My mum made plenty."_

_Harry finally looked at the girl. She was so very close and Harry could see shiny cherry-red hair spilling out from underneath the crochet beret in a long plait. Ginny's smiling face was covered in freckles and her large, amber, gold-flecked eyes were boring directly into Harry's._

Harry didn't miss dreaming.

Every time she flipped the hourglass, she could watch this memory as she floated through the vast sun that was her magic. Every night she could relive the happiest moment of her life. Every night they could be together in her head, even if they weren't in reality.

Harry slowly opened her eyes and hugged the warm body sitting between her legs. She breathed the girl in; the real thing was so much better than a memory.

Ginny, however, didn't respond to her touch.

Like every day for the past month, the redhead was deeply absorbed in her diary; absorbed in Tom.

And Harry… well, she didn't like it one bit.

Tom was a good enough bloke for a seventy year old Ravenclaw, but Ginny was Harry's and the boy in the diary was taking up all of their free time together.

Harry knew what would distract the girl from the book. She happily stuffed a few strands of cherry-red hair into her mouth.

To Ginny's simultaneous amusement and annoyance, Harry had taken a liking to chewing on Ginny's hair. Thanks to her stuffed broom, Harry had discovered that she liked to chew things… especially strawberry flavored things. She didn't really bite… she just… _lipped._

Ginny growled playfully, put down her diary, and turned in Harry's arms. "Stop that. You're going to chew it all away."

"But… I can't help it," moaned Harry, leaning back into their favorite tree. "I need my plushie."

"You're twelve! You don't need a plushie."

Harry nodded and whispered into Ginny's ear, lips brushing along her creamy freckled cheek. "Yuh hunh. I do."

Amber eyes filled with fire and warmth and every emotion known to man; they were filled with the look that Ginny only gave to Harry. "Nuh unh," the redhead said softly, a smile playing across her face.

"Yuh hunh, times a hundred." That same feeling that had been plaguing Harry's mind for weeks returned in full force. _Do more._ She closed her eyes, eagerly anticipating… well, she didn't know what she was anticipating.

Ginny rubbed her freckled nose against Harry's. "Nuh unh, times a thou-"

She was interrupted by an enormous boom of rolling thunder. Shrieks and laughter burst out from all around the lake as a heavy rain began to pound down upon them in sheets. Ron, Hermione, and Neville, who had been collecting Water Bluebells for Herbology, ran over to their tree, arms full of little blue flowers that were waving green tentacles all over the chests of their bearers. Ron grunted disgustedly as a tentacle found its way up his nostril. "BLEGH! Harry, take some of these, will you?"

"No can do, Ron." Harry picked up Tom from the ground, shaking off the water from the diary's pages. "My hands are full, see?"

Ron snorted and moved forward as if to dump them on her. Harry squealed and jumped up, darting off toward the castle; Ron in hot pursuit. She was fast… but Ron's stride was enormous.

"HA HAA," he shouted triumphantly as he caught her just beyond the Quidditch pitch. The bluebells fell to the ground and he pulled her back into his chest. "Got you!" His grin was wide and his sky-blue eyes twinkled with mirth. His shag of hair was soaked and falling into his face.

Harry's heartbeat quickened. _Is this it? Will he do it? _Remembering her pact with Hermione, she resisted the urge to pull him down for a Luna-esque kiss. Harry did however try to convey what she wanted with her eyes. She brushed her sopping wet hair back behind her ears and gazed intently up at his lips. Something must have gotten through to him because his wide grin faltered and he stepped back, nervously running a hand through his hair.

_Damn't, Ron!_

Later that evening, Ron took to berating Hermione for being pushy when she tried to help him with his History of Magic essay on 'The First Giant Uprising.' After their bushy-haired friend had stomped off in a huff, Harry tried again. Every so often, she would casually catch Ron's eye from the armchair across the room where she was reading Hermione's third year spell book. She attempted to smile… _seductively_… just like those women on Aunt Petunia's telly dramas.

Eventually, Ron's ears had gotten so pink that he had to hide them from view due to Fred and George's taunting. When she went over to console him, he abruptly stood up and excused himself to bed. She wanted to call after him, but Ginny clamped a hand over Harry's mouth. "Let him go," she whispered quietly. "You're overdoing it. I saw those fake smiles. You need to be yourself, Harry."

Harry turned to her in confusion. "But how do I get him to choose me if we just act like mates?"

Ginny sighed exasperatedly. "Harry, don't be like Lavender. If he likes you he should… I dunno… like you as _you…_ you know?"

"Yeah, I… I guess." Harry looked over at the cheerful blonde girl and her… _cheerful_ assets. "She's so pretty though and she's already snogged Ron. Hermione and I, we…well, Lavender's going to win anyway, isn't she?" Harry muttered moodily to Ginny.

Ginny promptly flicked her on the head. "My brother is not a prize, you big twit."

Harry frowned. "I suppose I _am _objectifying him a bit, aren't I?"

"Just a bit," laughed Ginny, running her hands down through Harry's hair, prepping it for a thorough session of fiddling. "But… why do you think that anyway? It's not like she's anywhere near as gorgeous as you are… and you're _already_ friends with him."

Harry giggled and leaned back into Ginny's chest. "You think I'm _gorgeous_?"

The redhead scoffed. "Oh shut it. You know you are."

Harry had been told she was pretty before, but it wasn't until now that she actually believed it. "Thanks Gin," she whispered, turning her head to place a small kiss on the girl's cheek. "You're pretty gorgeous yourself."

Ginny's face broke into a wide grin and she pulled Harry just the tiniest bit closer.

It was Harry who held Ginny as they slept that night, mainly to prevent the girl from falling out of the bed. Ever since Alice's episode, Ginny had been losing sleep to nightmares; she tossed and turned all night long. Harry was worried to say the least. She ran a finger up and down Ginny's arm, tracing the path of her freckles. _You're getting so pale, Gin. I wish I knew how to help._

Ginny let out a frightened moan and Harry shut her eyes tightly, hating the sound. She tried to ignore it, but it still took several hours of exhausting worry for Harry to be tired enough to fall asleep.

The next day, despite the storm and the team's complaints, Oliver still had them out for morning Quidditch practice. Harry was flying completely blind in the rain. _I should buy water-repellent goggles… because this is ridiculous._ She was only just able to sloth-roll out of the way of Angelina, who barreled through the spot where Harry's head had just been.

"Bloody Hell, Harry!" she shouted back. "Sorry about that! Nice move though!"

When Alicia broke her leg crashing into the stands, Wood begrudgingly agreed that it was time to stop. They splinted her up and moved as a group towards the locker room. Right outside the edge of the stands, however, their progress was stopped abruptly. The team… plus Ginny… gasped as a great _WHOOSH _of air and displaced rain drops swept over them.

Jumping with a flip from a shiny Nimbus Two-Thousand-One, a woman slammed down into the mud in front of them. She wore full blue and white Quidditch attire.

When the ebony-skinned woman turned, the entire team let out a unified squeal of delight. Oliver fell to his knees in worship. Angelina dropped Alicia unceremoniously, who was too shocked to mind or feel pain. Katie half-fainted. Fred and George, for once in their lives, said nothing as they stared slack-jawed. Ginny grabbed onto Harry's arm and bounced with her excitedly.

Gwenog Jones, the _best _Beater in the English league and five year captain of the Holyhead Harpies, was standing not four feet away, staring directly into Harry's eyes. "Hullo," Jones said with a cheerful wave.

An explosion of noise from the Gryffindor team made the woman jump. They crowded around her, touching her arms to make sure she was real. Oliver blushed to the roots of his hair when Gwenog shook his hand. Similar reactions were elicited from Katie and Alicia.

When Gwenog finally held up her hands for quiet, the only sound that could be heard was the squelch of Ginny's shoes in the mud as she bounced. "So," said the woman. "That was some excellent flying given the weather."

There was another explosion of noise, but it was quickly silenced by another raised hand. "I won't beat around the bush," said Gewnog pointedly. "Potter, Spinnet, Johnson, Bell. Step forward please."

They scrambled to form a line.

"I am here to invite the four of you to the Holyhead Harpies training camp during the coming summer. If you perform admirably, your names will be given priority in the tryout lists once you have graduated from school... if it is your desire to tryout, that is."

Harry was floored. She numbly took the packet of details from Jones. _The Harpies! Bloody Hell…_ A voice in her head that sounded exactly like Lee Jordan shouted, _'And here she is! The one and only! Potter!"_

She stirred from her day-dream when a strong arm pulled her away from the rest of the team. "I'd like a word, Potter," muttered Gwenog, dragging her a good twenty yards from the tittering group. When they were safely out of earshot, the woman turned to her and said quickly, "Alright, I'll lay it out flat for you. I don't mean to be insensitive to your teammates, but that was just a formality. I'm here for _you._ I've heard things from my scouts about what you do with a broom; amazing things; impossible things for a girl your age. From what I just saw out there, I now know that they're true. We want you as soon as you graduate. Would you be willing to sign an exclusivity agreement to only play for the Harpies?"

Harry's mind went into overdrive. "What? Why… why now? I'm… I'm twelve!"

Gwenog let out a bark of laughter. "Don't be daft, lass. The scouts are already swarming around you. Not to sound pompous… but they say you're the next _me._ Judging by your team's reaction… I suppose I'm the first Captain that's approached you?

"Y-yeah," stuttered Harry.

"Aye… well, that will change. The sharks are circling and I want the first bite, Potter. What do you say? Do you want to be a Quidditch Goddess?"

Harry's insides screamed yes, but she looked over at Ginny and her heart sank. _I don't want to go without her…_ "H-How long is the camp, Miss Jones?"

"Two weeks." Gwenog frowned and followed her line of sight. "Is she any good, Potter?"

Harry's eyes swiveled back around to the older woman. She had read her mind. "Ginny is amazing."

"If that's your only condition... then bring her along. So… is that a yes?"

"That's a definitely," replied Harry with a grin.

Gwenog handed her a second invitation for Ginny, gave her the deal, told Harry to send it by owl, jumped on her broom, and sailed off into the rain.

Ginny screamed when Harry told her what had just transpired, screamed again when she heard that she would be going with Harry to the Harpies training camp, and again when she saw the ridiculously large number of galleons indicated at the bottom of the parchment.

Harry's ears hurt. "Pipe down, you silly twonk. I don't want people to know."

Ginny scoffed and bounced excitedly. "You're a Harpy, Harry! Why on earth do you not want people to know?"

"Because I… well, I dunno. Just don't tell anyone except for Ron and Mione, alright?"

"Yeah, alright." Ginny grinned and hugged her invitation tightly. "Oh! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She jumped into Harry's arms and they fell into the mud with a splat.

Ron moaned miserably when Harry told him the news at breakfast. "Harry! You can't! You can't play for the _Harpies!_ The Cannons won't ever win if you play against them!"

Hermione tutted him and congratulated her, handing Harry the morning paper. "The headline is a bit off-putting. A dark wizard killed another dark wizard is what I took away from the story."

**Barnabus Borgin Found Dead; Dark Deal Gone Bad; Aurors on High Alert**

Harry saw the gruesome picture and decided against reading the article.

For the rest of the day, Harry daydreamed about flying in the League Championship, swathed in blue and white, holding the Snitch above her head. Snape had already given her two detentions because of it. Every so often she would poke his mind rather sharply as payback. He jumped every time and glared at her unpleasantly, but could do nothing to discipline her.

She was getting quite good at basic mind magic: closing doors and making probes. Ginny had taken to getting Harry to try to read random numbers in her head. The redhead _always_ cheated.

"Miss Potter?"

Harry jumped and looked around wildly. Professor Flitwick and the rest of the Charms class were gazing at her expectantly. The tiny man staring down at her from atop his stack of books was by far her favorite Professor, so she felt a bit guilty that she hadn't been paying attention. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't hear the question."

Flitwick chuckled and squeaked out, "I asked if you would be kind enough to show us your Avis charm; one blue, one green, and one yellow should do it. Class, watch closely at the way Harry flicks her wrist in order to achieve the different colors. The same flicks may be applied to any conjuration and animation."

Harry nodded and waved her wand. _"Avis. _Tiny animated birds shot out of her wand and soared excitedly about her head. She giggled when one nested in her hair.

"Well done, Miss Potter! Ten points to Gryffindor." Professor Flitwick turned on his book stack and began to write on the board. She started to sink back into her daydream, when someone whispered in her ear.

"_Come to me…" _

Harry sat up ram-rod straight. The voice was deep, chilling, and achingly loud… but no one else in the room seemed to think anything was amiss.

"_Kill…"_

Harry gasped; she had heard the voice before. "Hermione!" she whispered frantically under her breath. "Did you hear that?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Ten points. Well done." She looked a bit miffed that Flitwick hadn't called on her.

"Not… _not that!_ The voice! It said… it said 'kill!'"

Hermione's eyebrow rose even higher. "I didn't hear anything, Harry. It doesn't look like anyone else did either. Are you feeling alright?"

Harry avidly searched the faces of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Charms class, thinking that perhaps someone was having a go at her. Seamus and Dean were asleep. Neville was staring intently into his Rememberall. Lavender and Parvati were giggling over a copy of Witch Weekly. Ron was muttering _"Avis,"_ causing little bird eggs to pop out of his wand. Mandy Brocklehurst was picking her nose. Terry Boot was staring vaguely up at the ceiling. Padma Patil was scribbling notes furiously. Michael Corner was reading a comic concealed in his Charms book. Stephen Cornfoot was squeezing a rather large pimple on his chin. Morag MacDougal and Lisa Turpin were doing their make-up. Kevin Entwhistle and Anthony Goldstein were arm-wrestling. Su Li was crying softly about something or other and Sarah Fawcet was consoling her.

Not a single person in the class was indicating that they too had heard a murderous voice.

The bell rang. Flitwick yelled out above the clamor, "One roll of parchment on the techniques of manipulating animation, please! Due Monday."

Harry grabbed up her things as the class groaned and darted out the door, running as fast as she could in the direction she thought the voice had come from.

She rounded a corner.

WHAM.

Her books went flying as she crashed into another student. They spun, teetered, and Harry rolled in midair to take the brunt of the fall, nobly sparing the other person a nasty head bump. When they hit the ground, a pair of arms snaked around her shoulders and dreamy blue eyes opened not two inches from her own.

"Hello, Harry," said Luna vacantly. "I didn't think we'd be touching again so soon… especially since you've been avoiding me."

"Er… hi, Luna." It was true. Every time Luna came up to her or Ginny, Harry would make an excuse to be somewhere else. "I… I haven't been avoid-"

Luna interrupted her. "It's quite alright. I'm getting quite used to it. Most of my classmates avoid me, you see. It's gotten so bad that I'm almost positive I have an infection of Dudbubblies."

Harry looked away guiltily. She didn't mean to be as cruel as she had been… it was just… _strange_ to be in the presence of the girl that had kissed her. "I'm… I'm sorry if I've been hurting your feelings, Luna."

Luna pulled her up and brushed her off, smiling at her lazily. "Oh no, Harry. Not at all. I'm quite happy to look at your back from across the Great Hall. Your backside is almost as nice as your frontside you know."

Harry felt her cheeks burn and was truly relieved that this hallway was abandoned apart from them. Luna's hands fell slowly to her waist, thumbs hooking into the waistline of her skirt, pulling her closer. Harry grabbed the blonde girl's wrists and muttered, "Um… what are you…"

Luna seemed to realize what she was doing and withdrew her hands, shrugging and shuffling her feet apologetically. "Yes. Right… I forgot about the rules again. I wanted to kiss you, you see."

Harry couldn't reply to that… had no idea _how_ to reply to it. She stared at Luna; remembering how the blonde girl's lips had molded so wonderfully against Harry's; how her scraggly hair had felt as it brushed against Harry's skin. _It was nice… what's… what's the harm? But… no… it's wrong! It's wrong. Is it wrong?_

The awkward moment stretched into an awkward minute.

"Luna… it's just… _wrong_," Harry said slowly. "It… it was nice… but it's wrong."

Luna smiled and leaned back against the wall. "Yes… it _was_ nice, wasn't it?"

After a moment, Harry nodded. _It really was._ "Look Luna, I have to go. I… I promise I won't run away from you anymore."

"That's very kind of you, Harry," said Luna with a happy bounce. "I like to look at you up close like this. Well, watch out for Humdingers. They're particularly hungry today."

Harry picked up her books, waved at Luna nervously, and walked away as quickly as she could without it appearing like she was trying to escape.

After an hour of searching the west end of the castle for the voice, Harry begrudgingly gave up and returned to the dorms in a decidedly bad mood. She smiled, however, when she pushed open the door to the first year dorm. Ginny was _finally_ sleeping peacefully, her diary open on her chest. Harry crawled into the bed, pulled Tom out of her grip, and cuddled into her side.

Ginny's hand tangled into Harry's hair and the redhead moaned miserably.

Her heart fell. "Gin…" Harry whispered softly. "What's wrong? Is… is it me?"

Ginny's beautiful amber eyes opened blearily. "Harry?" she asked. Her voice was weak… vulnerable.

"Yeah. I'm… I'm right here, Gin. What's wrong? What… what were you dreaming about?"

Ginny grabbed Harry's blouse and pulled her close. "I… I can't remember. It was bad though. Harry, there's… there's something I have to tell you! It's so important… but I can't… I can't remember… I can't _ever_ remember." She sniffled weakly and buried her head into the pillow.

"I… I want to help," Harry whispered, running her thumb down Ginny's cheek. "How can I help?"

"Don't go to dinner," mumbled Ginny. "Stay with me."

Harry threw her leg overtop Ginny's thigh and slid as close as she possibly could without clambering on top of the girl. She took the freckled hand that lay between them and squeezed it tight. Their bracelets spun and their charms clinked together with a tinkle. "Always, Gin."

When Ginny fell asleep, Harry turned over to pick up Tom and a self-inking eagle feather quill from the bedside table.

_Tom?_

_**Hello, Harry Potter. **_

_I need to ask you, has Ginny told you anything really important? Did she tell you that she needed to tell me something?_

_**Ginny tells me much. Most of our conversations involve you, schoolwork, Quidditch, and a boy named Michael Corner.**_

_What about Michael Corner?_

_**That is between Ginny and myself, Harry Potter.**_

Harry growled and threw the book across the room to bounce against the window._ Stupid diary._

"_Watch where you throw thingss, Chica. You almosst disslodged the green Francess plant."_

"Sorry, Alice," Harry sighed. "Bad mood. Ginny's getting sick and I'm hearing voices. So… not really a good day."

"_The King hass come. No day iss a good day."_

"Are you ever going to tell me what that means?" Harry asked in frustration.

Alice was silent.

But in that silence, Harry heard shouting echoing up from the common room. She got up off the bed and went down to see what the commotion was. To her surprise, nearly everyone in Gryffindor was crowded into a large huddle around the fire, all looking down at something in the center. Harry squeezed through the bodies to reach Ron, who was right on the inner edge. She tugged on his sleeve. "Ron, what's going-"

Harry gasped.

Lavender Brown was lying on the ground in front of them. Her arms were raised in front of her, frozen in place. Her legs were in a similar pose, but parted as if she was walking on air. Her skin had a grayish tint. Her eyes were wide and locked onto the ceiling, unmoving. Her mouth was open in a silent scream.

Harry's first thought was a body bind, but the eyes were unmoving. She looked…_dead._

Parvati was sobbing over the girl's prone form. Harry knelt down next to her and took her hand. "Parvati, what happened?"

The Indian girl sniffled. "I f-found her in the Library after dinner… like this. No one c-can help her!"

Harry shouted to the room, "What are you idiots doing? Go get Professor Dumbledore! Get Madame Pomfrey! Honestly!"

There was a great shuffling for the portrait hole, but when the students reached it, they stopped abruptly. She could see a pointed sparkling hat above their heads. The crowd parted for the purple-robed Headmaster like the parting of the Red Sea.

Dumbledore wasted no time asking questions. He swept down upon Lavender and pulled out his wand. A golden light poured over the girl and the Headmaster closed his eyes, muttering indistinctly under his breath. He lightly touched several places on Lavender's body with the wand: her head, her neck, her chest, each arm and each leg.

When Professor Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief, so too did the rest of the room. He stood and said loudly, "Miss Brown has only been petrified. When she is revived, she will surely be able to tell us who or what petrified her. I must insist that all students stay in their common rooms for the rest of the evening."

"Sir," said Parvati meekly. "When… How long will it take to revive her?"

Professor Dumbledore didn't need to answer her. The sad look on his face sent Parvati into a fresh wave of tears. The wizened old man waved his wand and Lavender floated into the air. He guided her body out of the portrait hole and as soon as it had closed behind him, the common room exploded with loud shouted conversations.

Harry squeezed Parvati's shoulder sympathetically and made her way back upstairs to Ginny. She closed the door behind her with a _snap_ and the deafening shouts from downstairs turned into a muffled hum of noise. Her body heaved with a great sigh and she turned.

Ginny was awake again, sitting up in bed, writing in the diary.

_That is between Ginny and myself, Harry Potter._

Harry bristled, stomped over to Ginny, wrenched the diary out of her hands, and was about to throw it into the bin when a fist sailed toward her face. The right side of her head exploded in pain and she felt the sickening sensation of the skin around her eye swelling rapidly. Harry fell to the ground from the force of the blow.

Ginny was standing over her, breathing heavily, arm still raised.

Tears sprang to Harry's eyes as she scooted away from the person she loved most in the world; the person that had just struck her. The blow was so much harder than any Uncle Vernon or Dudley had ever landed… _could _ever land… because this blow went straight to her heart. Somewhere in her body, a bond that was ironclad… a joint that was unbreakable… a piece of her soul that could never be destroyed… snapped in half.

Harry retreated into the corner, huddling next to the desk. She was hurt. She… was betrayed… and Ginny didn't care. "_Gin,"_ Harry moaned in anguish, clutching her aching head. "W-Why?"

The redhead was grinning. "_Harry Potter_…" Ginny whispered, eyes bulging with sickening glee. "I could kill you now… but… that would bring far too much unwanted attention upon me. It's too soon for that. However, I can assure you that _you will be_ _dead_ before this year is through!" Her head tilted in a way that made the grin seem all the more terrible. Ginny's beautiful amber eyes… they were manic; filled with hate.

Harry _knew_ that look; she had seen the expression before on another much more sinister face… Voldemort's face.

_Dumbledore spoke softly, "Till next time then, Tom… __Incendios Grata.__"_

The bond that was broken snapped back into place… but Harry's heart shattered in the process. _Tom. Oh God… Ginny! _

Ginny raised her wand.

_I won't let him have you!_ A rage like Harry had never felt consumed her; consumed everything that she was. It burned through her like wildfire. She lunged at Ginny. "GIVE HER BACK TO ME, YOU FUCKING BAS-"

"_Obliviate."_

"Sir," said Parvati meekly. "When… How long will it take to revive her?"

Professor Dumbledore didn't need to answer her. The sad look on his face sent Parvati into a fresh wave of tears. The wizened old man waved his wand and Lavender floated into the air. He guided her body out of the portrait hole and as soon as it had closed behind him, the common room exploded with shouting conversations.

Harry squeezed Parvati's shoulder sympathetically and made her way back upstairs to Ginny. She closed the door behind her with a _snap_ and the deafening shouts from downstairs turned into a muffled hum of noise. Her body heaved with a great sigh and she turned.

Harry winced and stumbled as a very sudden and very painful sensation erupted around her right eye. _Ow! Cramp! Cramp! _Holding her face gingerly, she looked towards the bed with her good eye.

Ginny was still asleep.

"Anything happen, Alice?" Harry asked lightly.

"_You left… and then you returned… or… you returned… and… I… I cannot remember, Harry sspeaker."_

Harry snorted. "You need to lay off the bananas."

"_Perhapss I do."_

Harry crawled back into the bed and pulled Ginny into a tight embrace.

For the next few days, no one could talk of anything except the attack on Lavender. The Prophet even ran a few articles about the safety of the school being compromised. Ginny was stunned to hear the news. When she told Harry that she too had been in the Library before dinner, on the same floor and section as Lavender, Harry had nearly had a heart attack. "It could have been you!" she cried as they ascended the steps to Astronomy which all the first and second years attended together.

"But it _wasn't,_ Harry," said Ginny, waving her telescope nonchalantly. "Don't worry about it."

"Don't… Don't _worry_ about it?" Harry grabbed Ginny's arm and pulled her into an abandoned tower classroom. She slammed the door with a bang. "DON'T _WORRY_ ABOUT IT?"

"Harry, what-"

Harry cut her off with a heated whisper. "You toss and you turn and you moan at night. You're paler than Nearly Headless Nick. The circles under your eyes are bigger than Scabbers! You never take your eyes out of that stupid book. You… _you don't spend time with me._ Of course I'm going to worry about it! I'm adding it to my lengthening 'worry about Ginny' list."

"Is that what this is about, Harry?" asked Ginny with a small smile. "Are… are you _jealous_ of my diary?"

Harry scoffed. "N-No!"

Ginny slipped her hands around Harry's waist. _"You are."_

"No, I'm not_._ I'm worried about you!"

Ginny shook her cajolingly. "Say it. Say 'I, Harry Potter, am jealous of a book.' _Say it._ "

"No," said Harry mulishly. "I'm… I'm just…"

"Jealous?" Ginny supplied unhelpfully. Harry gave Ginny her most annoyed glare and the redhead giggled. She lightly kissed Harry's cheek and whispered, "Come on. We'll be late."

On top of the Astronomy Tower, Harry wondered if seriousness was what led to having greasy hair. Professor Sinistra, like Snape, took her somewhat underappreciated class _extremely_ seriously. Whenever the woman would flail, gesturing violently and grandiosely at the stars, her greasy black hair would slap nastily against her dark-skin. When they walked in late, she gave them detention instantly. There was a reason she was everyone's least favorite teacher aside from Snape and Lockhart.

"What did we miss?" Harry asked Hermione under her breath.

"The usual," muttered Hermione. "The importance of constellation angles and other such nonsense." Astronomy was the one subject Hermione didn't really take seriously. She always said that magical astronomy was linked much too closely with fortune-telling, when its only real benefit was navigation.

"Joy," agreed Harry morosely.

They were supposed to be working on completing their star charts that night, but Harry couldn't focus. She kept glancing over at Ginny. The redhead was so pale. Harry could have sworn that her body became see-through at one point.

"What's this, Potter?" said a stern voice from right behind her.

Harry's star chart was snatched from her hands to be held closely under the nose of Sinistra. As the woman stared at the map, her eyebrows rose into her hairline. She gave Harry a penetrating look and held her hand up to the heavens… searching for something. She grunted and handed the star chart back to Harry. "Thirty points to Gryffindor, Potter."

The tower went deathly silent. Sinistra _never_ gave out points.

The woman turned to the class and gestured upwards. "Potter has discovered a new constellation with a powerful magical aura. Look there… beside Polaris… the double spiral in the sky. Next lesson we shall observe this new phenomenon closely. Truly a job well done, Potter." Sinistra almost smiled at Harry… _almost._

Harry looked down at her chart. There, in a large swirl of ink from her quill, were two intersecting spirals. She had done it completely by accident as she doodled absentmindedly on the chart.

Harry flipped the hourglass.

Just like her mustard trails back at the Burrow, she could _feel_ the mark; could feel it pulsing; could feel its magic swirling endlessly. She looked over at Ginny who met her gaze and raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Harry nodded.

_It's the rune. It's the light on my arm. _

Harry looked up to the stars and her eyes were immediately drawn to that same swirl in the sky.

_It's… It's so… _

Ginny's hand slid into Harry's own as she too gazed up at the rune, eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "It's really pretty, isn't it?"

Pulling Ginny close, she muttered, "It's beautiful, Gin."

0000

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Albus had been having such a wonderful week preparing the school for the grandiose Halloween celebration. It was ironic that something so small could ruin it all.

He stared in denial at the blood red daisy that sat in a crystal vase upon his desk. _You were dead. I saw your body._

Yet… a part of him knew it to be true. Borgin had been killed by a spell of Albus' own creation. Only two people on earth knew how to cast it… and now… the flower.

The evidence was concrete.

There was a note. He picked it up with trembling fingers.

_Nitwit Blubber Oddment Tweak_

Albus clutched his chest; his worst fear realized. Weakly, he muttered the old code they had always used to address their letters. "Now I Triumph With Infinite Time. The Blade… Oval… and Triangle."

He clutched the Elder wand tightly. _What have I done?_

0000

0000

0000

0000

"Are you sure?"

She dragged him toward the bed by his tie. "Of course I am, Draco."

Draco nodded, pulled the clothes from his upper body over his head, and gently stripped Pansy of her vest, blouse, and bra. He pushed her back into his pillows, enveloping her lips in a hungry kiss. His tongue danced expertly with her own and his newly calloused hand slid over the small of her back in just the right way. _Thank you, Quidditch._

She moaned weakly into his mouth, her body arching upwards of its own accord. His flat, naked chest was so warm against her bare breasts. Heat surged between her legs and she gasped into his mouth eagerly.

Pansy had been holding off on allowing him to touch her like this for the past three months. Now… as he dragged his fingers tantalizingly across her skin, she _desperately _wished she hadn't waited. This was heaven.

His lips left hers and he trailed soft kisses down her neck to find her breast, latching onto its hardened bud. He suckled her nipple lightly, swirling his tongue around the tip. A delicious shock shot through her body, setting the nerves in her spine on fire. _"Oh Merlin… fucking… oh… Draco!"_

She grabbed one of his attentive palms and pushed it downward, thrusting both of their hands into the waistline of her skirt.

Draco drew back, his hot breath tickling her moistened bud. "Pansy… what-"

She growled in annoyance and pulled his head back down. "Don't argue. Just touch me. _Now_."

Thankfully, he didn't need telling twice. His fingers ventured downward, slipping into her knickers, trailing through her still blonde curls. When they found her lower lips, she almost climaxed then and there.

Draco sighed and released her nipple as her body trembled beneath his swirling fingers. "You're so beautiful, Pans."

Pansy groaned and grabbed his hair, yanking his head back up to smash her lips against his. She was so close.

She thrust into his hand and urgently whispered against his mouth, "I'm… I'm almost there. I… Draco… _inside!"_

Draco understood perfectly. He plunged two fingers into her sex and fluidly broke through the barrier she had been afraid to break herself. There was a wrenching moment of agony, but she was in so much ecstasy that the pain molded into the pleasure seamlessly.

Even though he pumped her clumsily, she came anyway. Her orgasm rolled over her in waves, causing her thighs to shake violently. A long high-pitched whine escaped her throat. _It's never been this good!_

She went weak. She couldn't move. Her muscles screamed in gratitude.

"That was amazing," drawled Draco huskily, his fingers sliding slowly out of her.

There was something in his eyes that she had never seen there before. She had seen his lust. She had seen his hate. She had seen his fear. She had seen everything… except this. It was the same look that Potter always gave to that little redhead cunt.

Pansy said the words before she could stop herself. "I love you, Draco."

He grinned and kissed her… but didn't reciprocate the sentiment.

Pansy found that she didn't really care, because his eyes… and the bulge against her leg… said everything she wanted to hear. _When did I become such a sappy fucking Hufflepuff? _

Smirking, she rediscovered her Slytherin side and shrugged off the rest of her clothes.

Draco was staring hungrily at her most intimate area. Feeling his erection twitch with a violent throb, she grabbed his chin roughly and forced him to look into her eyes. "Again."

He ogled her, slack-jawed.

"Now!" growled Pansy impatiently. _Do I always have to wear the pants?_

Draco brought her over the edge four more times before the sounds of the other Slytherins, noisily returning from the Halloween feast, drifted down from the common room above them.

"Close the curtains," Pansy commanded, planting a kiss on his pale chest. "And I'll stay to return the favor."

Draco had just managed to shut them when Pansy heard the door to the dormitory burst open.

"-think it is? Draco?" asked a cracking squeaky voice that obviously belonged to Teddy Nott. "He wasn't at the feast. He had plenty of time to write it on the wall."

A deeper voice, Blaise's, replied in a drawl, "Malfoy? The Heir of Slytherin? Don't make me laugh, Teddy. Draco doesn't have enough power in him to kill a Flobberworm."

Pansy bristled. _How dare he insult Draco!_ She was about to rip open the curtains, when Draco's arm circled protectively around her waist. He shook his head slowly, flicking his eyes up and down her bare body.

_Oh. Right._

He sat up straight, lightly stroking her thigh as he listened intently to what the other boys had to say about him.

"Watch your fat mouth, Zabini," grunted someone in a slow drawl… most likely Gregory. "The Malfoys can make you, your filthy _gypsy _mother, and your poor drunk of a father disappear without lifting a finger."

"Did you just insult my parents, _Goyle?_ Aren't your mother and father _siblings_?" There was a grunt of anger, shuffling, and then a loud thump, which Pansy supposed was a body hitting the floor. "Pathetic," said Blaise with a laugh. "You're no better at magic than the sorry sod upstairs. You'd do well to remember that I'm your better."

"And you'd do well to remember that Potter isn't the only one with a pet snake," spat Gregory. "Hex me again and my King Cobra will end up in your pillowcase."

"Yeah?" sneered Blaise, albeit somewhat less confidently than he was speaking a moment ago.

"Yeah," grunted Goyle. "You don't want to be making threats right about now, Zabini. Anyone could be the Heir. You might just find yourself not waking up one morning."

"My money's on Parkinson," chimed a rather stupid sounding voice that she immediately recognized as Vincent. "Psychotic, she is. I'd put her down if she wasn't such a hot piece of arse. Draco's in for a surprise when she starts bleeding him while they shag."

The boys outside the curtain guffawed lightly and Draco's arm tightened around Pansy's waist. "Ignore it," he told her gruffly, the silencing charm on the curtains preventing him from being heard by the other Slytherins.

"I plan to," Pansy replied primly. "What's this 'Heir of Slytherin' business, do you think?"

"It sounds familiar. Something we missed, I suppose."

"Hmmm, _I_ didn't miss it," she said coyly, pushing him back into the pillows and reaching for the button of his trousers.

"So," Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow. "Are you planning to bleed me, Pans?"

Pansy smirked at the playful taunt and kissed his stomach. "I plan on doing for you what you did for me. But I'll _certainly_ cut you up if you want me to, Draco. My Father has all _sorts_ of toys we could use."

"Mmm… I think I'll pass."

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Ginny groaned and put her head down to the pillows. She had the most terrible headache.

Harry mewled and pawed at Ginny's arm. "Please come to the Feast, Gin… _please."_

Ginny pulled Harry close and sighed into her soft black hair. "I feel really terrible, Harry. Madam Pomfrey can't see me until after and I can't sit through the noise. You go. Bring me some candy."

Harry's bright emerald eyes flickered with sadness. "But… we… we need to have Halloween together…"

Ginny leaned in and rubbed her nose on Harry's. "We'll have plenty of Halloweens together, silly."

The black-haired girl grunted stubbornly and climbed on top of her. "I won't move until you agree to come."

"_Haaarrrryyy,"_ Ginny moaned. "Please, I need to sleep."

Giggling, Harry collapsed onto Ginny's back, becoming a mass of deadweight. She mumbled something into her shirt.

"What?"

Harry raised her chin to Ginny's shoulder. "I said I love you."

Ginny's toes curled at the way Harry said it. It made her feel like she was the most important person in the world. Ginny reached backwards and wiggled her thumbs into the pockets of Harry's jeans. "If you love me you'll bring me candy."

Harry groaned. "You're really not coming?"

Ginny shook her head. "My temples are pounding. It's so bad that even talking hurts."

Harry slid halfway off her back so she could look into her eyes. She was all business now. "It's because you're not sleeping, Gin. Tomorrow we're going to the Hospital wing and getting you a week's supply of Dreamless Sleep potion."

"Fine… but candy first, please."

Harry snorted, smacked her on the bum, kissed her cheek, and left for the mountains of sweets and savories that lay in wait for her inside the Great Hall.

Ginny groaned as a particularly sharp spike of pain shot across the space behind her eyes. She got up and shuffled to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face.

She didn't like to look in the mirror anymore. Her skin was sickly pale, her rich cherry hair was turning a dull orange, her eyes were reddened and the black circles beneath them made them look even redder.

"_Ginny."_

She froze, eyes flicking into the mirror, goosebumps shooting over every inch of her skin. The voice was right behind her… but no one occupied the reflection except for herself. Something instinctive told her not to turn around… screamed at her… begged her not to turn around.

She started to turn.

"_Don't turn around."_

"H-Harry?" she stuttered, not daring to turn… yet itching to turn. She shivered. "That's… that's not Harry." She twitched her head to the left.

"_DON'T TURN AROUND!"_

She had never been so terrified in her life. She needed to turn. She had to turn.

"_Ginny… I'm right behind you, Ginny."_

Her body swiveled.

"_If you turn… you will die."_

Ginny froze again. Trembling, staring into the empty mirror, she asked through chattering teeth, "W-Who are you?"

"_I have many names. Oh Ginny… I'm behind you."_

She needed to turn. She had to turn.

"_DON'T TURN! DON'T TURN AROUND!"_

Her heart was pounding so fast she thought it would explode.

"_I'm reaching out, Ginny."_

Her breath was ragged. She needed to turn. She had to turn.

"_I'm so close. Oh Ginny… I'm right behind you… I can almost touch you… I can almost taste you!"_

Ginny whirled around… and scoffed in disbelief.

No one was there; just an empty shower and an empty bathtub.

"I'm going insane. Bloody headache."

She turned back to the mirror… and screamed.

The boy… _that terrible boy_… was standing right behind her. His eyes were a sickening red. His skin was a deathly pale, almost transparent.

His arms wrapped around her body like snakes, wrenching open her shirt and skirt. His hands sank into her skin like hot metal would through butter. Blood spurted everywhere: over her face, over his face, over his old-fashioned Slytherin uniform.

His tongue penetrated the skin of her cheek. Crimson liquid filled her mouth, spilling out past her lips.

Ginny flailed in agony. She could feel him inside her; inside her skin; inside her mind; ravaging her very essence. His arms were fully submerged in her chest now, fingers gripping her heart… squeezing.

And then… his entire body sank into her.

Tom grinned, clutching the sink, the girl's body still wracked by the pain of his first true possesion. He could control her until he saw fit, instead of for a fleeting moment.

_Weakling child._

As he cleaned and healed the wounds of the body, his Prime raised its head from the hole where the tub had just been; eyes closed and ready to obey Tom's every command. _"Tonight Masster… we sshall risse."_

Tom laughed cruelly as the last vestiges of Ginny Weasley's control left her body.

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Ginny whirled around… and scoffed in disbelief.

No one was in the bathroom except for herself.

She turned back to the mirror and her hands slipped off the sink.

She stared down at them in shock. Her palms were dripping with blood that was not her own. The night's events flashed back to her in a torrent. "Oh no… Harry! OH GOD! What… what have I d-"

"_Ginny."_

She whirled around.

"Gin," said Harry weakly, shaking Ginny's shoulders with concern. "Are you alright? You were… Your eyes were burning a hole into the wall."

Ginny sat up in bed, clutching her still painful temples. "Yeah. I'm fine. Merlin, the Feast went by quickly, didn't it?" She eyed Harry's candy-less arms disappointedly. "No candy?"

Harry shook her head. She was ghostly white. "I… I dropped it… when… when I saw him."

"Who? Harry… what's wrong?"

"_Filch,"_ whispered Harry, brilliant green eyes wide with fear and shock. "He's... He's…"

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**Cliffhangar!**

**Review! Any and all opinions are welcome. I actually read and consider them.**

**NEW ART.**

**Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page. Contains some NSFW content for your viewing pleasure.**

Another somewhat short chapter. Next chapter = big events… plus evil Tom. Mwuahahahahah.

If anyone has noticed… I'm totally a Doctor Who fan. : )

Goyle's a little OoC. But since he was never really expounded upon in the books, I thought it would be okay if I made him slightly intelligent.


	14. Chapter 12: Happy Halloween

So, thanks to Wordhammer, I have discovered that there are like 500 or so Fem!Harry fics in the community 'Miss Potter.' I'm not reading any as I'd probably feel compelled to mooch ideas. But y'all should check them out.

Wordhammer also has a Girl Who Lived Story: Holly Evans and the Spiral Path.

**N**ow **I** **T**riumph **W**ith **I**nfinite **T**ime. **B**lade **O**val and **T**riangle

**NITWIT** **B**lubber **O**ddment **T**weak

Thanks for reading everybody.

ONWARD

**Chapter 12: Happy Halloween**

_A touch of the hand and this burning would, on the instant, beautifully reverse itself._

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The mist was thick that Halloween night. He could taste it on the girl's tongue as he swept through a particularly dense spot of the vapor. It sank into her freckled skin, sending shivers down her spine. The child trapped inside of him moaned in agony, clawing at the steel walls of his mind.

She was so weak… so _useless._

Tom crept silently around the edge of his old classmate's hut; the girl's small patent shoes sinking into the mud of the pumpkin patch as he made his way towards the rooster pen. He had at least expected to have triggered a ward by now _despite_ the half-giant's expelled status.

When his hand closed around the pen's latch, he readied himself to disarm an alarm… but there was nothing; just the creak of grimy old wood. _I see you're still a foolish overly-trusting oaf, Rubeus._

Grabbing the nearest rooster by the throat, not daring to use magic in case Dumbledore was Astraling while at the Feast, Tom swiftly snapped the bird's neck with relish. Making his way through the pen, he slaughtered the animals with a satisfied smirk. Each crack of bone was a step closer to his materialization; a step closer to his second rise. Soon, he would find and join with his true self in a brand new body. Together, two souls in one vessel, they would be more powerful than ever before. They would reform the world as they saw fit.

Tom picked up the last bird. It flapped helplessly in his hands, squawking and making a terrible racket. He could feel the pulse in its neck beating rapidly against his palms. With a wrench he bent its head backwards. The bones popped and the animal went limp.

He loved when they went limp. When his filthy bastard of a muggle father tumbled to the ground like a ragdoll under the power of his wand, Tom had felt such a sensational rush; had felt such power over life and death. Tossing the dead bird onto the ground, he exited from the pen, closed the door, sealed the latch, and made his way back up to the school.

The Entrance Hall was vibrating with the thrum of chatter and music that emanated from behind the immense oak doors that led to the Great Hall. He could feel Dumbledore's overpowering ocean of magic spilling out, even from behind ten feet of stone and three feet of wood. He could feel Potter's aura as well. It was a mere pinprick when compared to Dumbledore's magic, but it was still larger than any other aura in the room. She was strong… yet she would still be no match for _him_ when she came for her precious little Ginny.

The relationship the two shared made them so weak; so _vulnerable._ He had never understood why people cared for others. You could spend your whole life making bonds of friendship… but in the end… when it really counted… you would die alone. _They all die alone. _

_Except for me. _Tom grinned manically as he climbed the staircase to the second floor. _I do not die. Lord Voldemort is eternal!_ The portraits moaned in confusion as he walked past. The external Confundus charm he had placed on the girl's clothes back in the room was performing adequately. He wouldn't be seen by their prying eyes tonight.

Tom strolled jauntily down the corridor to the bathroom where the chamber was located and paused outside its door, staring at the wall in contemplation. _How should I do this? Let me see… It needs to last. Some sort of paint… or blood maybe? Yes… they must constantly fear the heir. The fear will bring me back all the more quickly; it will eat at the girl's soul so I too may feed openly upon it. But… how to inspire it?_

There was a streak of black from down the hall.

Tom grinned. "Bring me the cat, Prime. Kill it if you wish."

"_Yess, Masster... I will rip… tear… kill…" _There was a soft ripple of magic from within the wall next to him as pipes realigned and expanded, allowing the great snake to slither through them. "… _ssoo hungry… for ssoo long… kill… time to kill…" _The basilisk's deep hollow voice echoed within his mind as it chased after the cat. _"… I ssmell blood… I SSMELL BLOOD!" _

The little redhead was making just as much racket in his mind as the snake, screaming her frustration, rage, and fear to only his ears. He slapped her mind viciously with a tendril of her own magic. _Don't worry, girl. You won't remember a thing._

Tom stepped towards the wall and was about to slice open the girl's hand with her teeth when Dumbledore's magical aura exploded rapidly from below.

_NO!_

He hurriedly shielded the girl's mind from view as best he could… but… he exposed _himself_ in the process. Dumbledore's sickening touch washed over him. He could feel the shock and anger from the old man as he identified his least favorite pupil.

Tom closed all his doors and dug at the old man's mind, shunting white hot knives into every tendril that touched him.

But it wasn't enough.

Dumbledore was too strong. He ate away at Tom's shield, stripping away layer after layer.

Tom frantically shouted out down the corridor, "PRIME! INTO THE GREAT HALL! DISTRACT THE OLD FOOL! THE GIRL MUST NOT BE DISCOVERED!"

Tom felt the basilisk's anger. Snakes didn't like to deviate from plans... but it did as it was told. He heard the screams of terror from the floor below and felt Dumbledore's aura and tendrils contract so he could deal with the threat of the mighty snake.

"YOU! WEASLEY!" shouted a grizzled voice from behind her.

Tom spun, drawing the girl's wand, which felt surprisingly comfortable in his hands.

He recognized the now old man's aura. _Argus. _They had been… _acquaintances_… at school. That is… until he had found out that the boy was almost a complete squib. _Filthy._

There was no way he could obliviate the man. Dumbledore would surely question Filch and restore the girl's weak memory charm instantly… which left only one option.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

There was a flash of green light. The girl inside his mind screamed in agony as her magic was blackened ever so slightly.

Argus' eyes went wide as the death spell sailed towards him. Tom could almost see the man's life flashing through his eyes.

But Argus didn't fall.

He wasn't even hit.

The spell had dissipated before it reached him. The man patted his chest to make sure he was still alive… which he was… _completely._

The girl was too weak to cast the complex spell properly. Her magic, while adequate, was fatigued. It was his fault really… he needed her weak for the possession. He had filled her thoughts in the night with terrible dreams, keeping her from peaceful sleep.

_Well… a simpler approach then._

Argus turned to run as Tom raised the wand once more.

"_Diffindo!"_ he shouted in the girl's dulcet voice, swinging the wand in a sharp arc. The white spell cut into the back of the old man's neck, swiftly decapitating him with a lovely squelch. Tom summoned the falling body part and quickly wrote his message, using the bloody head as if it were a quill. With a smile, he stuck a finger into one of the thicker arteries and used his bloody digit to paint an afterthought at the bottom.

When he finished, he jammed the head down onto the spike of a nearby torch. _Oh yes… that's excellent. Even better than the cat, I think._ He waved his wand and threw a sticking charm on the blood.

There was a loud roar of agony from beneath him.

_Time to go._

"PRIME, ESCAPE! NOW," he bellowed, disillusioning himself and running for the staircase that led to Gryffindor Tower. When he reached the Fat Lady, he wrenched the password from the portrait's magic, opened the passage, and sprinted up to the girl's dorm. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror and released her, escaping through her mouth.

The girl stared down at her hands and trembled. "Oh no… Harry! OH GOD! What… what have I d-"

"_Ginny,"_ he whispered in her ear.

The girl whirled around and their eyes met.

Tom smashed into the corridor of her mind, tearing out the memories of the night's events. He cleared them all away; all the way back to the moment before she left for the bathroom.

_Poor, pathetic child. It really is miraculous that she is so closely linked to my killer. When I am corporeal, I shall award Lucius most handsomely for his… insight. _

Tom broke through the roof of her mental corridor and latched on to her mobile control. He made her clean the blood from her hands and clothes and walked her to the bed. Laying the trembling girl down gently, he retreated to the front of the corridor where he could withdraw the memory of his touch.

She fought viciously against his control... but to no avail.

He was Lord Voldemort... and she was_ nothing._

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Harry gasped in wonder as she walked into the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione. It looked magnificent. The entire room was darkened and Hagrid's massive pumpkins were floating in midair, carved into entrancing portrayals of mythical creatures, lit by the flickering candlelight. Along the wall, a full orchestra of charmed skeletons was playing an eerie mesmerizing tune. Some extremely diligent Professor had streamed silky spider webs over the entire ceiling. When Harry pointed them out to Ron, he pulled her hand down, gripping it tightly.

"Yeah, Harry," he said with a shiver. "That's… neat."

Hermione let out a small grunt of distress seeing that she was being left out and grabbed Ron's other hand. "They're not real Ron… just illusions."

"Well… why's there a giant spider on your shoulder, then?" he asked, turning pale.

Hermione scoffed and gave Ron a 'you're not going to fool me with that' glare.

Harry laughed a bit nervously as the large tarantula crawled into Hermione's bushy locks. "Erm… Mione, there… there _is_ a spider."

"Harry, I really don't think that's very f-" Hermione squealed as the black spider placed a hairy leg on her neck. She smacked at it wildly and the large arachnid went sailing into Ron's face.

To the amusement of the entire hall, his scream was extremely high-pitched.

After Harry had told him she had cast a spell on him to ward off spiders… which was actually just a warming charm, Ron muttered to Hermione bad temperedly as he munched on a large piece of brisket, "Honestly, woman! You hit it right into my mouth!"

Hermione sighed heavily as she ladled pumpkin soup into her bowl. "On _accident,_ Ronald!"

"Yeah _well,_ now everyone thinks I'm a… I'm a… a _ninny_!"

Harry rubbed him on the back. "You're a very lovable ninny, Ron."

"Oh shut it," Ron mumbled, jabbing a sweet potato with his fork.

She giggled. Ginny, had she been here, would have at that moment pushed her down the bench into Ron's side. But she wasn't here… and Harry wasn't brave enough to do it herself… even though she wanted to. She and Ron used to touch so often… and now… whenever they did, Harry would… well.

She bit down into her broiled mutton, letting her hair fall into her face to hide her blush.

She snuck a wishful look in his direction. Was it wrong of her to be just the tiniest bit happy that, for now, Lavender was out of the picture? Yes. It was. But that's how she felt anyway.

Harry happened a glance over at Parvati, who was stirring her potatoes glumly. In the three weeks since Lavender had been petrified, Parvati had not spoken a word to anyone, not even to Padma, who asked Harry everyday whether or not her sister had gone to class and eaten her meals.

Harry felt terrible for the girl. The mandrakes needed for the potion that would revive Lavender wouldn't be mature until the end of the school year. _Eight months without her best friend._

Harry caught Parvati's eye and smiled sympathetically. The girl nodded in appreciation, but her eyes moistened and she put her head in her hands. Neville placed a friendly consoling arm around the girl's shoulder and Parvati surprisingly threw her arms around the slightly pudgy boy's neck. Neville seemed at a loss as to what to do with the weepy Indian girl sobbing into his chest. For some reason, he looked to Harry for help.

Harry shrugged and discreetly motioned for Neville to hug the girl… which he did.

Ten minutes later, Parvati was smiling widely, munching happily on a large pasty, and chatting avidly with Neville about his cactuses.

When the main courses disappeared and dessert materialized, as soon as she saw the vast collection of sweets, Harry, for the first time in her life, wished she hadn't eaten so much. Professor Dumbledore had really pulled out all the stops this year. Mountains of every delicious treat she could imagine sat upon the table. Harry cackled with delight, loaded several handfuls of chocolates and crèmes into the pockets of her robe for Ginny, and dug in.

Even though she was completely full... she was still able to summon the strength to consume a piece of treacle tart, a piece of chocolate-meringue pie, a pumpkin ice cream sundae, several toffee filled chocolates, and a large goblet full of hot white chocolate topped with whipped cream and gingerbread crumbles.

_Ginny's right. I'm a piggy._ "Oink Oink." She giggled to herself and slumped onto Hermione's shoulder in a food induced daze.

Hermione wrapped an arm around her waist and said with a slightly slurred laugh from the many chocolate cordials she had consumed, "Harry, I think it's entirely possible that you have stu tomachs… _two stomachs."_

Harry opened her mouth to reply, but at that exact moment… she heard it.

"…_ssoo hungry… for ssoo long…"_

Harry sat up, chilled to the bone, and grabbed at Hermione's robes. "Did you hear that, Mione? Ron?"

"Hear wha'?" Ron asked, through a mouthful of potatoes. "Your oinking?"

"… _kill… time to kill…"_

"No!" said Harry desperately, looking around for the source. "_That voice!_ It… It sounds like it's coming from…" Harry looked up at the spider webbed ceiling. "Up there."

"… _I ssmell blood… I SSMELL BLOOD!" _

No one could hear it except for her. Not a single person in the Great Hall. _I'm not crazy! _

Harry formed a rudimentary probe and sent it to Professor Dumbledore. She tried to knock on the walls of his mind politely… but she imagined it was more like heavy intrusive thuds by the way the Headmaster jumped in his seat.

Clear twinkling blue eyes swiveled to meet Harry's own and she felt her tendril solidify into a hardened pathway as Dumbledore reinforced it. She didn't _speak_… but tried to convey in general ideas what was happening, bringing the memories of hearing the voices to the forefront of her mind.

_I'm hearing a voice that no one else can hear, sir. That's three times that I've heard it now. I… I think it's coming from above us. It's going to kill something! _

The Headmaster raised an eyebrow. He turned to Filch who sat two seats to his left and whispered something to the man. The grubby old caretaker stood up and quickly left the hall.

Harry felt a veritable shift in the air. She didn't know what it was, but it felt slightly like a breeze… without wind.

And then… something happened that she had_ never_ seen before.

Professor Dumbledore's face contorted with anger… _real _anger. The wrinkled lines in his wizened face darkened, his white eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenched and ground, his hands gripped the tablecloth, and in his eyes… there was no twinkle. Power rolled from him in undulating waves.

It was more terrifying than Voldemort, to see the kind, caring, eccentric old man become… _this._

The students started to notice; some of them muttering excitedly about whatever new Halloween surprise Dumbledore had in store for them.

A hole, ten feet wide, appeared in the ceiling above the Head table. Something was stirring within it. Something was slithering out of its depths.

Something huge hit the stone beneath their feet.

The Hall shook. The floor quaked. The students let out a collective gasp.

"Holy buggering shite!" yelled Ron.

A massive serpent uncoiled from the ground and slowly raised its head. Its hook-shaped scales were a bright poisonous green; its body as thick around as Mr. Weasley's Ford Anglia and as long as a Hogwarts corridor. The snake's eyes were shut tightly, but its mouth, lined with saber-thin fangs the length of her arm… was open wide. _"TIME TO KILL …"_ it hissed menacingly.

A good portion of the students were clapping excitedly, thinking this was part of the Feast. Even a few teachers were clapping along.

Harry, however, knew otherwise.

Dumbledore quickly waved his wand in a huge arc. She felt a small sucking sensation all over her body and quite instantly, in the blink of an eye, the scenery had shifted. The head and house tables, still full of teachers and students, were in the Entrance Hall.

Dumbledore flung open the entrance to the Great Hall and, with surprising quickness for his age, dashed inside, slamming the doors shut behind him.

There was a moment of extreme silence… and then… a mighty, _bellowing_ roar of pain from inside the closed doors echoed over them.

Screams and shouts of suddenly realized terror erupted from the mass of black-robed students. It was chaos. People pushed and shoved to get to the staircases, knocking over the benches, the teachers, and each other. McGonagall was trying to calm everyone down… but she might as well have been trying to draw blood from a stone.

Someone knocked into her and she fell into Ron, who fell into Hermione, who fell into Seamus, who fell into Cormac McLaggen, who fell into Marcus Flint, who fell into Lockhart. She heard the blonde wizard squeal as he was trampled.

"**SILENNNNNCE!" **yelled a commanding and echoing voice.

All movement and noise ceased.

Dumbledore stood in the doorway to the Great Hall looking slightly tired, but none the worse for wear. He drew himself up to his full height and said with a grateful nod, "Most appreciated, shouting is particularly unpleasant for an old wheezing man like me."

The Headmaster picked up a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean from the Slytherin table and popped it into his mouth. "The immediate threat is passed. The beast has gone. Prefects, please accompany all students back to their respective common rooms at once. All teachers, if you would follow me back into the hall?"

The two groups went their separate ways. Harry followed Ron's feet, not really paying attention to where they were going.

_I can hear it because it's a snake! Blimey… Dumbledore fought it all by himself. It was huge. Biggest snake I've ever…no, not a snake… a monster. How did it get in? Where did that hole come f-_

She walked right into Ron's back. The boy had stopped, frozen in his tracks, and was staring at the wall in front of them. Harry peeked around Ron's shoulder.

There, on the wall, was bright red lettering that looked sickeningly like blood.

**THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. **

**ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.**

And… there was something… beneath it… on… the…

Bile rose into Harry's throat and she fell to her knees, vomiting up half of what she had eaten at the gruesome sight. Most of the other students in the crowd were in a similar state.

_Filch's head_, frozen in an expression of terrible fear, had been impaled upon the spike of a torch grate. It was dripping blood from the nose, mouth, and neck. Harry realized with a sickening lurch of her stomach that the lettering actually _was_ blood.

"Harry," Ron said, paling to sheet white. "Come on. W-We need to… to go." He dragged her through the crowd. People were whispering and pointing at her as she passed.

He tried to keep her from seeing it. He tried to muscle her down the hall.

But Harry glimpsed it through the crook in his arm. There was smaller lettering next to the torch.

**HAPPY HALLOWEEN, HARRY.**

Her knees trembled violently. The entire crowd was staring at her with a mix of shocked, terrified, and accusatory stares. To her knowledge, she was the only Harry in the school. Whoever had done this… had done it with _her_ in mind. A sob escaped her throat and she sank into Ron's arms as her legs gave out from beneath her.

"_Argus_," whispered Dumbledore, who had pushed his way through the crowd. "_Alas…_ you did not deserve this fate. _Forgive me_." He vanished the head from the torch, as well as the body that lay further down the hallway. "All students will report to their dormitories at once. Quickly now! Miss Potter… I think it would be best if you were to accompany me to my office. Mr. Weasley... if you would be so kind as to help her?"

The two of them followed the Professor slowly, as Harry could barely stand up straight. Her heart was sagging in her chest and her legs wobbled as if they were made of gelatin.

The gargoyle saw them coming apparently because it leapt aside at their approach without being given the password. Once inside the office, Dumbledore offered her a lemon drop which she took gratefully. Calm washed over her as she popped it into her mouth.

Ron turned to leave but Harry caught his hand and whispered, "Stay."

Dumbledore waved his wand and two pink cushioned stools appeared out of thin air. "Yes… do sit down, Ronald. I suspect Harry will need your most excellent walking assistance for the trip back to Gryffindor Tower."

Ron's ears turned pink.

"Now, Harry," said Dumbledore as he sat in his chair with a flourish. "I'm afraid we must speak quickly for I must see to fortifying the school. Firstly, I fear that Voldemort has possessed yet _another_ body… although I admit that I failed to discover who it was. Secondly, I must ask… has anyone you have encountered recently been acting strangely or particularly belligerent?"

"Erm… well… Pansy's always been belligerent… Snape too." Harry shook her head. "But no one has been acting different than normal, Professor. So… wait … it was _Voldemort _that… that wrote on the wall? That… that killed… He's back _already_?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Alas, Harry, _yes_… he is back already. And he has, once again, opened the Chamber of Secrets."

"What's that then?" chimed Ron curiously.

"Ah yes…I suppose you wouldn't know. Well… the Chamber of Secrets is, quite logically, a secret chamber. According to legend, it was built by Salazar Slytherin before the Great Fire and before he fled the school. It is said to withhold a terrible monster… a monster, I think, that we have just met tonight."

"You… you said that this has happened before, sir?" asked Harry, trying to block out the image of Filch being brutally murdered by a shadowy figure with burning red eyes.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Although my evidence is not _absolutely_ concrete, I am fairly certain that it was Voldemort who opened the Chamber fifty-six years ago while he was a student here at Hogwarts. A young girl lost her life and it has just been made clear to me that the cause of her death was by the gaze of the basilisk."

"What's a basilisk?" mumbled Harry apprehensively.

Dumbledore folded his hands in a steeple and fixed her with a penetrating gaze. "A basilisk is a creature of utter nightmare. The large serpent, the King of Serpents, can kill with its gaze alone. We are lucky that it was instructed to not kill wantonly else… we would likely all be traveling down the path of our next great adventure."

"T-The King of Serpents?" gasped Harry. _The King has come!_ "Alice! She… she _knew_! She could've_ told_ me!"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes… the legends do say that a basilisk is the Prime species of all snakes. However, its name most likely indicates more than its sheer size. I imagine lesser snakes must obediently submit to the whims of the monster."

His reassurance did not make her feel any better or any less angry.

Dumbledore continued. "Now… at any time that you hear the basilisk's voice, Harry, I wish for you to send for me. We must discover the person to whom Voldemort has bound himself. To do this expediently, I must bind _you_ to Fawkes. May I have a lock of your hair?"

Harry grabbed hold of a particularly pointy part of her hair and chopped it off with a conjured pair of scissors that disappeared with a puff of smoke when she placed them down upon the desk.

Dumbledore smiled and took the small bundle of hairs. He waved his wand and the black strands turned to ash with a great burst of searing flame. He scooped up the remains and walked over to Fawkes. The bird didn't look at all healthy. Instead of his usual brilliant red plumage, Fawkes was brown and his feathers were oily, looking as if they had begun to fall out.

Dumbledore trilled and cooed softly as he placed the ashes of Harry's hair into the silver basin beneath the phoenix's perch. "Fawkes… I know it is of great inconvenience to you, but would you mind terribly if I asked you to burn early? It is of the utmost importance."

Fawkes trilled angrily.

"True, True," mumbled Dumbledore guiltily. "I shall buy you some owl treats as soon as I am able."

Fawkes glared at the Headmaster… then burst into flame.

Harry and Ron jumped in shock.

"Not to worry," chuckled the old wizard. "You must remember that Fawkes is a phoenix. When it is time for a phoenix to die, they erupt into flame and are reborn from the ashes. Watch."

Sure enough, a tiny wrinkled bird poked its head out of the ashes a few moments later, trilling in delight.

Dumbledore sighed. "Ah good, he likes you, Harry. I was afraid he might reject your ash. For you see, now... you are a _part_ of him. I suppose it is fitting… as he is a part of your wand. Now that you are bound, Fawkes will come when you call and you may send for me."

Harry stood and went over to the perch, holding out her hand for the little red bird to inspect. It cooed gently and nibbled her finger. "He's beautiful, sir."

"Aye, that he is… although I think he would prefer 'handsome,' rather than 'beautiful.' He's much to proud for his own good."

The chick slowly tried to stand on its wobbly legs, but promptly fell over into the ash with a frustrated trill.

Harry placed her hands on either side of Fawkes and helped the bird walk upright around the basin. For a moment, as she played with the happy chick, she almost forgot the message scrawled on the wall. Almost.

Dumbledore must have noticed her glum expression for his hand found her shoulder and he squeezed lightly. His half moon spectacles slid down his nose so he could look her directly in the eyes. "It is not your doing, Harry. Voldemort is a cruel soul. Any and all blame for Argus' death lies with _him._ The message to you is doing exactly as it was intended: to make you fear and doubt yourself. You mustn't waver, dear girl."

Harry nodded even though she didn't really believe what she was agreeing with.

Ron, who had been mysteriously silent, spoke up. "Professor Dumbledore, sir? Can Harry control it? The big snake I mean. Couldn't she just tell it to shove off?"

The Headmaster sat back down at his desk. "No, I'm afraid that privilege only lies with the Heir of Slytherin… which Voldemort clearly is… I should have seen it… ah well; the only thing we can do now is to, in the words of one of my dearest friends, _'keep buggering on.'_"

Ron snorted.

"_Yes…_" said Dumbledore humorously. "That was always my reaction as well. Winston always knew just how to make someone smile."

Harry wanted to laugh… but she found that she couldn't. Filch's pained final expression was burned into her mind's eye.

"Now… let us get you both back to your common room, shall we?" said the Headmaster pleasantly.

"Sir?" said Harry slowly. "What is he after?"

Dumbledore fixed her with an appraising gaze. "Again, Harry, you ask a question to which you already know the answer to."

Harry shifted uncomfortably on her poof cushion. _Me._

Dumbledore accompanied them all the way back to Gryffindor Tower to ensure they reached it safely.

Harry collapsed into a plush chair next to the fire the minute they had climbed through the portrait hole. Her face felt like it was set in a particularly heavy frown.

Ron sat down on the chair's arm and grabbed her hand. "You heard Dumbledore, Harry. It's not your fau-"

"Yes it is."

Ron scratched his head in frustration and said slowly, "I'm not good at… at consoling people… but, I mean… think about it… the only real blame is on that arsehole that did it, yeah?"

"He did it because he wanted revenge, Ron! He's taunting me!"

"Well, he still did it… so it's still his fault, isn't it?' said Ron obstinately, brushing the hair out of Harry's eyes and wiggling her glasses up and down playfully. "Look, just don't think about it."

She turned her cheek into his palm. "Help… Help me up, will you? I'm going to bed."

Ron pulled her up and she made her way to the girl's staircase.

He called after her. "I lost your quill, Harry."

That made her pause. That made her smile. _Really_ smile. She leaned over the banister to look down at him. "I lost your quill too, Ron. Night."

"Night."

Harry turned and pushed open the door to the first year dorm. Ginny was lying on the bed exactly where Harry had left her, staring intently at the wall.

"Hey Gin, here's your-" All of Ginny's candy was gone. Harry vaguely remembered it rolling out of her pockets when she fell on the floor to retch. "Never mind… Gin?"

Ginny continued to blankly gaze at the wall beside her.

Concerned, Harry sat down on the bed and shook Ginny's shoulders. "Gin?

It was as if Ginny was a doll and Harry's touch brought her to life. Amber eyes swiveled and widened when they saw her.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, perplexed. "You were… Your eyes were burning a hole into the wall."

Ginny sat up in bed holding her temples in her hands. "Yeah. I'm fine. Merlin, the Feast went by quickly, didn't it?" She eyed Harry disappointedly. "No candy?"

Harry shook her head and shivered at the image that refused to leave her head. "I… I dropped it… when… when I saw him."

Ginny frowned and placed her cold hand over Harry's feverish one. "Who? Harry… what's wrong?"

The horrific face of the murdered caretaker flashed before her eyes. _"Filch,"_ whispered Harry, shivering. "He's… He's… _dead._"

"_What?"_

Harry told her everything.

Ginny didn't say a word when she finished, just pulled her into the bathroom, stripped her down, and forced her into the tub. The redhead sat on the edge of the bath and pulled Harry's head back into her lap, her feet splashing into the water at Harry's side.

Harry slapped Ginny's calf softly. "Hey… get in."

Ginny flicked Harry's ear and stood up to unbutton her skirt. "Then budge over."

"Oi," Harry moaned, covering her ears. "Don't… I'm delicate."

Ginny pulled off her shirt. "You're delicate! I've been sleeping and I feel like I've just played an hour of Quidditch."

"At least you were sleeping finally." Harry slid forward to leave room for the girl as she pulled off her red bra and white knickers.

Ginny climbed into the tub and squeezed out some soap, beckoning Harry backwards.

"Thanks, Gin," she whispered, closing her eyes in relaxation as Ginny's hands roved across her scalp, spreading sweet smelling shampoo all over her hair. Harry flipped the hourglass, sighed in contentment, and inhaled the lavender that danced with strawberries. Her budding breasts tingled pleasantly in the warm water that sloshed like waves crashing upon a beach. "Why do you like doing this so much?" asked Harry, tilting her head back onto Ginny's shoulder.

Ginny giggled and sighed happily. "Because… I like seeing you smile like you used to."

Harry moaned as Ginny rubbed a particularly sensitive spot below her earlobe. "U-Used to?"

Ginny's hands stopped moving, her chin found Harry's neck, and she whispered hesitantly into her ear, "During Christmas. You know, before… before he… _got at you_."

_Quirrell. _Harry drew her knees up to her chest. "Have I been different, then?"

The redhead wrapped her arms around Harry's shoulders and pulled her back into the cushion of her larger bosom "No… not _really_. It's just little things… like… your smile. It doesn't meet your eyes all the time… except… well, except when we're all alone. And your eyes… they're… _harder_."

"Because Voldemort's after me! I have to be… I have to be hard," Harry mumbled, turning sideways so she could lean into Ginny's chest and still be able to hold her knees; still be safe.

Ginny flinched as Harry said the name. "He… he won't get you, Harry. I won't let him. You don't have to be hard."

Harry closed her eyes and tried not to cry. "He… Qui- he hurt me so bad, Gin… and I… I didn't deserve it!' Harry shook her head vehemently. "I… I didn't. I… didn't. Did I des-?"

"No!" Ginny cried, cutting her off and turning red in outrage that Harry had even considered the thought. "You didn't! Why do you keep_ torturing_ yourself like this? He was… he was evil and he got what he deserved!"

"Yeah… I… I guess." Fiddling with the tips of the redhead's beautiful hair, Harry stuffed a lock of it into her mouth. A ripple of back-arching pleasure shot down her spine. She sighed deeply and trailed a pruned finger across Ginny's freckled collarbone. With the hourglass turned, Harry could feel the girl's heart hammering slowly against her arm like a hammer on an anvil. She took a deep breath of strawberry that sent little shocks all over her body, making her shiver.

"How could you possibly be cold?" Ginny asked with a giggle.

Harry felt her cheeks heat rapidly. "Erm… one secret?"

Ginny sighed and gave her an exasperated look but nodded. "One secret."

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She leaned over the banister and flashed him her real smile. He had missed that smile. Harry's real smile and Hermione's blush, two things that were rarely seen nowadays, always made his chest tighten when he was the one that made them happen.

She spoke softly, her words like tinkling wind-chimes. "I lost your quill too, Ron. Night."

"Night," he whispered back, heart pounding slightly faster than it had a moment ago.

Singsongs and wind-chimes; blushes and smiles; toffee and broom polish. They twisted him about, pulling his head this way and that. Ron felt his ears heat up rapidly as he imagined them in a broom closet with him. Harry would moan and squeal. Hermione would gasp and sigh.

_Stop it! They're your mates._

But he couldn't help it.

_Stupid bloody lipstick._

Ever since he had seen them with their glossy makeup, he hadn't been able to control his thoughts or actions. It's was almost like they were Veela.

He couldn't help thinking about the way Harry looked at him; the way her eyes softened just the tiniest bit. He couldn't help thinking about their almost kiss at the Burrow. He couldn't help thinking about how she felt against him in the rain when the same thing happened again a few weeks ago; about how his hands had accidentally fallen onto her well sculpted bottom.

He couldn't help how whenever Hermione walked into a room his gaze would lock onto her like a bludger. He couldn't help thinking about how her hands would play with his hair on the sparse occasions that his head had been in her lap. He couldn't help breathing her in; the lush scent of her and how it made his brain fuzzy. He couldn't help thinking about how he wanted to run his hands through her mad bush of silky brown hair.

_Bloody girls. Girls with their lipstick and their bums and their… their bubbies… and their… _

He glared down at the steadily growing tent in his pants and tried to think about the gruesome sight he had seen tonight… which put an end to his growth extremely quickly.

Ron sighed, turned for bed… and yelped in surprise.

Dumbledore was sitting in the armchair right behind him, sipping a cup of tea and setting silver chess pieces on the same large floating board that he had seen in Dumbedore's office. The Headmaster waved a hand and beckoned Ron to sit.

He sat. "Erm… Sir, what are-"

The old man interrupted him. "Orbital defenses, Ronald. I have configured the wards… but I thought an extra bit of security inside the castle would be essential."

Ron stared. "I'm… I don't understand, Professor."

Dumbledore chuckled and pulled out a small candy, popping it into his mouth. "One of our earliest Headmasters had a penchant for the game, you see. He designed a set of internal defenses that could only be activated through a round of chess. Why? I cannot say. Nonetheless… they will be essential in catching the possessed soul. So, we must activate them. The quality of the defense depends heavily on the quality of the game… thus… I have come to _you,_ Ronald.

_Me?_

The Headmaster took another sip of tea and smiled warmly at him. "Don't look so surprised, dear boy. You thoroughly trounced Minerva's defense this past year. Perhaps you will find _me_ more of a challenge. Shall we play?"

"Yeah, al-alright, sir." Ron touched the silver pieces and they came to life. Each type of figure was in the shape of a different magical creature. Ron's were a lighter shade of metal than Dumbledore's so he assumed his pieces were white. "Knight to F-3."

An armor-clad, mace-wielding centaur standing in the Knight's position bounded over a row of house elves. Dumbledore 'hmmmm'd' and pushed a pawn forward two spaces.

They danced around each other's pieces for twenty minutes, before Ron triumphantly trapped one of Dumbledore's rooks. His centaur viciously smashed the troll to the ground.

What Ron realized twelve moves later, when his vampire Bishop was beheaded, was that the Headmaster was truly a master of the game and could switch tactics and plans as easily as Ron himself. He was a far better opponent than Harry, who, while good, lacked the will to make the essential sacrifices required for traps. But that's just who Harry was. She'd never sacrifice anyone if she could help it, annoying little chess pieces included.

The game slowed considerably. It was likely four in the morning before Ron saw a possibility for mate. It was risky and would require that Dumbledore fall for his trap, but he liked the occasional risk. Ron slid his Queen into the space that would be her end in thirteen moves.

_Take the bait… take it. Come on… take it. Just take it._

Dumbledore slid his rook two spaces to the left.

Ron tried not to smile.

_Got you._

In twenty-one turns, Dumbledore heaved a great sigh and poked his King in the back. The crowned sorcerer turned to look up at Dumbledore with a glare. The Headmaster chuckled and pointed his index finger down to the board. The little King muttered angrily about 'old coots not worth their salt,' took off its crown, and chucked it at Ron's forehead.

"Ouch! Why you little buggering sod! I'll… Oh… erm… sorry_,_ Professor."

The Headmaster waved his hand nonchalantly. "I've most assuredly heard it before, my boy. I must say… that was the most challenging match I've ever had the pleasure to play. You are truly a master. I was almost tempted to cheat. I would bow… but my bones would object most ardently to the task, I think."

Ron swelled with pride. "Thank you, sir. You're easily the best I've ever played. Maybe we could have a go again sometime?"

"I'd enjoy it immensely if we did so, Ronald." Dumbledore tapped his wand on the board and it glowed fiercely, showering the dark common room with light.

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Harry awoke the following morning on her back. There was a soft wind on her neck and a tight grip in her hair. A leg was thrown over her thighs. An arm rested beneath the thin cotton of her T-shirt.

Harry reached up and unclasped Ginny's freckled hand from her messy black tangle, entwining their fingers together. She slowly turned her head to look at the girl whose other hand was lightly cupping Harry's left breast. She thought she had come to understood why Ginny's hand always ended up in this same spot. The redhead was protecting it; protecting her heart.

Harry brushed away a few red strands from the angelic face and found a familiar sight that made her heart wrench painfully. Ginny was crying in her sleep, tears falling in a steady stream down her nose.

_Do more._

_Help her._

Not really knowing what she was doing, heart suddenly beating faster than it ever had before, Harry leaned forward and kissed away Ginny's tears, enjoying and yet hating the taste of the salty liquid all the way down to…

She hesitated over the pink lips.

_Girls don't kiss. They don't… and it's… it's Ginny!_

_Ginny's even prettier than Luna. You want to kiss Luna again, don't you?_

_What? No! I want to be with Ron!_

_And Luna?_

_And-_

She didn't let the rebellious voice in her head finish. "No!" she cried, sitting up in bed, clutching her temples. "What in Merlin's name _was _that, Harry?"

"Like to know that myself," said a sleepy voice next to her.

Harry tried to describe it but found she couldn't. Her body was tingling all over and the familiar warmth between her legs that she felt every morning was suddenly a hundred times more intense.

"Sorry, Gin. I'm just …" Harry trailed off, blushing, grabbing Ginny's hand. "Do you remember what that woman in The Witching Hour said about… about… how… how we'd start to want to… _touch_ down there?"

Ginny's eyes widened and she sat up. "Do… do you need to do it? Right now?"

"I think so," Harry whispered quietly.

Ginny squeaked in excitement and covered her mouth. "Can I watch?"

Harry blushed furiously and shook her head. If she saw, it would spoil everything. Ginny would figure out her secret and all of this would be… different. "I… no… don't watch."

Ginny nodded, kissed Harry on the cheek, and ran into the bathroom. As soon as the door closed, Harry pushed down her pajama bottoms and knickers and ran her palm over her folds.

She cried out at the contact as it sent a jolt all throughout her body. Her mind went blank and she swirled her fingers around her button frantically, furiously, and clumsily, needing the warmth to peak as it had on the broom above King's Cross. She needed that feeling again. Her body ached for it.

And eventually, it came. Like a wave, it crashed over her. Her thighs shook and Harry covered her mouth with the crook of her elbow to stop herself from screaming.

Five minutes later, after she had fully recovered, she entered the bathroom. Ginny was sitting on the sink, swinging her legs back and forth. "All done?" the redhead asked, sliding off the marble. "How was it?"

Harry blushed crimson. _It's mind-blowing. _"It's… sort of nice… I guess."

Ginny giggled. "It's _gross_ is what it is. I'm not looking forward to it."

Harry wanted to change the topic. "Breakfast, then?"

"Yes please."

They dressed quickly, Harry picked up Alice, and they headed down to the common room.

When they stepped out of the portrait hole however, they were stopped abruptly. Ginny slid behind her, wrapping her arms protectively around Harry's waist.

An imposing, giant of a man, at least fifteen feet tall, stood in front of them. He wore a silver crown upon his head and carried a silver staff in hand. His metallic robes billowed while he stood still as a stone. His flat silver face was featureless apart from a thin lipless mouth and two blazing eyes made of blue flame. The statuesque man reminded her greatly of…

Harry made for her wand but the metal man came alive, just like McGonagall's and Flitwick's chess set. It brandished its staff and bellowed in a deep grinding voice **"Halt!"**

Harry and Ginny froze, not entirely of their own will. It felt like something was pressuring her to stand perfectly in place. The giant metal man swooped down upon them, pressing its flat face close to Harry's nose. She could feel the heat from the fires where its eyes should have been. The blue flames drew her in… she felt something wash over her... and then... the silver man retreated. He paced to the side and growled, **"You may pass."**

Harry and Ginny hurried down to the Great Hall, not quite sure what had just happened. Inside the large double doors, they encountered yet another statue, this time a giant armored centaur. **"Halt!"**

They went through the same confrontation and it let them pass. Ron and Hermione were already sitting down; Hermione looking rather exasperated and Ron looking rather smug.

Ron puffed out his chest. "Hey mate! Guess what?"

Hermione let out a shriek of disgust and pelted Ron with raisins to accentuate her words. "Shut. Up. Already. You. Stupid. Prat!"

Harry sat down next to Hermione and heaped a pile of bacon, toast, and marmalade onto her plate. "What have you done this time, Ron?" she asked with a giggle.

Ron's ears went pink and he chucked one of Hermione's pelted raisins at her. "Oi! It's a good thing!"

"Yes Ron!" cried Hermione. "_We know_… and you can stop boasting about it now." She turned to Harry. "Ron beat Dumbledore at chess and in the process helped set up these giant aura-readers. He's already filled me in on everything that happened last night… but he won't shut up about his win."

Harry paled… she hadn't thought about yesterday all morning… and it all flooded back to her: the snake, and Filch, and Fawkes, and the message. People all around the Hall were staring at her intently. She let her hair fall into her eyes as she spread marmalade onto her toast in misery. _It's… it's all my… my f-_

"_May I have a banana pleasse, Harry sspeaker?"_ Alice slid down her arm and looked up at Harry with her small emerald green eyes.

_Alice. _

_Alice the Snake._

_Alice who could have warned them._

_Alice who knew all about what had been happening._

_Alice who was under the command of the basilisk._

Harry stood abruptly, grabbed four bushels of bananas, picked up Alice, and left the Hall without a word. She heaved open the doors to the grounds and marched out into the rain. Slowly, trudging through the mud, Harry made her way toward the Forbidden Forest, getting angrier and angrier with every step.

At the forest's edge she threw the bananas down and dropped Alice unceremoniously into the dirt. "GO!" she screamed at the snake. "Go and never come back!"

Alice raised her head to look up into Harry's eyes. _"I do not undersstand, Chica. Why do you wissh me to go?" _

The rain mixed with her tears. "Why should I explain? WHY? You didn't explain either! JUST GO!"

The snake slithered over to her ankle and slid up her leg. _"Why do you ssend me away? I do not wissh to go!"_

Harry wrenched her off and held the little white snake up to her eyes, shaking her hands to get the point across. "How _could_ you, Alice? How could you sleep in my room? How could you sleep in my bed? How could you, knowing what you did about the basilisk?"

"_He iss King! I musst obey!"_

She could barely see through her tears while she shouted. "SOMEONE WAS KILLED BY ITS MASTER AND IT'S _OUR_ FAULT! WE COULD HAVE STOPPED IT IF ONLY YOU'D TOLD ME!"

Alice poked her tongue out onto Harry's thumb. _"Forgive me! Do not ssend me away, Harry sspeaker! I do not wissh to go! I could not betray King! He iss Great… and I am ssmall. He iss Prime… and I am dirt. We are alliess… but-"_

"WE'RE MORE THAN ALLIES!" shouted Harry in rage and anguish.

"_What iss more than alliess, Chica?"_

Harry shook the snake hard. "I _love_ you, Alice! We're _friends! _You were my very first _friend!"_ She hated when the words she wanted to say came out in English. "How can you not understand what I'm saying? How do you not know what _friends_ are?"

"_I do not undersstand!" _The snake wrapped around her wrist and made a noise that sounded like a cry and a hiss put together.

Alice was crying too.

"I know you don't understand!" Harry sank down into the mud and hugged the snake to her wet and slightly snot covered face. "Please! J-Just go! You're under the command of that horrible thing and it obeys Voldemort! What if… what if it tells you to hurt someone? You won't think twice about it! You have to _go_, Alice!" Harry uncoiled the snake and put her on the ground, giving her a little shove towards the bananas. "That's enough to last you a few months."

"_I do not… I do not… I do not wissh to go!" _The snake slithered back around and tightly recoiled onto her fingers, making her little crying hiss.

"No, _Alice_… Please g-go!"

"_I do not wissh to! I do not wissh to!"_

Harry pushed the snake off her fingers, stood, and ran as fast as she could back to the castle.

Ginny had been watching her from the steps to the Entrance Hall. When Harry was close, she opened her arms wide and Harry slammed into her, sobbing and hugging the redhead in a vice-grip.

"Shhhh, it's alright," whispered Ginny comfortingly, kissing her cheek. "You had to."

Harry didn't know how long they sat on the steps, getting pelted by the rain. It was likely only a few minutes… but it felt like hours before Ginny pulled her up and dragged her back into the Great Hall. Ginny sat Harry down next to Ron, who threw an arm around her shoulder.

"Are you alright, Harry?" asked Hermione. "Where did you take, Alice?"

Harry choked on a sob and buried her eyes into Ron's jumper.

Ginny whispered into Hermione's ear.

Hermione blanched. "Ooo Harry, _I'm sorry_. That was terribly insensitive of me."

Harry nodded her acceptance but couldn't bring her head out from the warm maroon wool.

Halfway through breakfast Dumbledore shot a firework into the air and stood to get the attention of the chattering mass of teenagers. "Good morning, students. I have several words that must be departed before you begin the day's lessons. Firstly… A grave tragedy occurred in this castle last night. A good man was murdered. I must ask you all to consider our departed friend Argus Filch. Argus made Hogwarts a clean and wondrous place to both live and learn. Let us now observe a moment of silence to honor the man that was taken from us in an act of terrible malice."

No one spoke… although a few Slytherins pointedly coughed. Dumbledore waved his wand and those few individuals' heads were suddenly covered in their eggs and porridge.

Dumbledore clapped once. "Ah that will do, thank you. Our hearts are with you, Argus. Now, secondly, we come to the matter of our resident basilisk. I assure you now, no matter what rumors you hear, Hogwarts will not be closing. However, attendance is completely optional. Should you and your parents wish to discontinue your education until the matter is resolved, then that is entirely acceptable. Should this be your choice, you may leave school tonight on the Hogwarts Express. Thirdly, Aurors armed with roosters, as well as our new metal sentinels, will be patrolling the halls and standing guard at all exits in and out of the castle. It would be most wise to leave both well alone. Also, in addition to our new defenses, mirrors will be placed strategically throughout all hallways. Should you hear any ominous slithering and or hissing, it is recommended that you stand in front of any of these said mirrors. Fourthly, I would like to introduce our new resident caretaker, granddaughter of Mr. Filch, Madame Dominque Dupont."

There was a loud burst of applause from the male population of the school as the woman stood. Even Snape was clapping appreciatively.

Harry could immediately see why. Dupont was absolutely beautiful. She was young, mid-thirties, slender, had long blonde hair, flawless Nordic features, and an amplitude of curves. There was something ethereal about the woman... about the way her platinum blonde locks shimmered in the light. Harry felt the tiniest urge to do something impressive to get her attention.

Dumbledore raised his hands for silence. "Yes, welcome, Madame Dupont. Lastly, any student caught roaming out of bounds at night will face a week's detention and a loss of fifty house points. It is for your own safety that this harsh rule-

BANG

The doors to the Great Hall slammed open and in stalked two men. They carried walking sticks and were bedecked in spotless, gold-trimmed, black robes of immeasurable quality. One man she recognized as Draco's father. The other had yellowish blonde hair and a small upturned nose. It reminded her of… _ugh. _Pansy had just blown a kiss to her father.

"**Halt!"** cried the statue… but the men kept walking.

The entire Hall gasped as the statue drew a giant mace from its saddle and turned to surely decapitate the two men, but Dumbledore quickly held up his hand and the centaur became immobile once more.

The men strode up to the Head table, pompously swinging the canes they obviously didn't need. They began to argue with the Headmaster in quiet yet heated voices. The old man nodded and smiled which seemed to infuriate the younger men. Malfoy raised his cane and jerked it backwards towards the Gryffindor table. Dumbledore's twinkling eyes turned steely and his smile evaporated. He rose, gestured for the men to follow, and swiftly left the Hall.

"What do you think that was about?" asked Hermione.

"Dunno," said Ginny, shrugging.

"Don't care," moaned Harry, her thoughts reverting back to Alice.

"Gugh," mumbled Ron, eyes fixated on Madame Dupont.

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**Review now! : )**

**Cutting this chapter off. I didn't want you all waiting too long with a cliffy. **

**Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page. Contains some NSFW content.**

How will a dead Filch and his Veela replacement change the world?

I realize the possessions don't quite adhere with canon. But it's much more interesting and realistic this way I think. Canon CoS has so many holes and conflicting ideas: like the portraits. How did they not see Ginny attack people? How did they not see her paint on the wall? And the ghosts: How did Myrtle not see Ginny open the Chamber... as it was really weeks before the Deathday party when the basilisk was released? How did the basilisk actually get out of the pipes? How did myrtle not notice it exiting and entering the one entrance to the chamber? Anyway I try to fill them in as best I can but I'm bound to miss some.

When Riddle talks about Ginny at the end of the book he mentions how long it took for her to stop trusting her diary, how weak she was, how she never told her brothers that she had long gaps in her memory just because they would "_tease her_." It didn't really fit with her character. So I eliminated memory of the possessions completely in order to avoid going down that rabbit hole. It fits with my mind magic motif. Let's just say that Tom is more eager to control the situation because Harry is so close to Ginny, thus he has to erase memories of the aftermath of the possessions… which explains things nicely.

* * *

As my sexuality, which shouldn't matter, has been questioned at least fifteen times, it's time to announce on the big board. Yes. I'm bi and proud. Now stop asking.


	15. Chapter 13: One Secret

I feel like I rushed the last chapter and the style suffered.

Here's to better writing. *holds up glass*

Thanks all for your wonderful reviews. I do read each and every one and try to explain things that need explaining.

If you haven't been to the art page yet you should check it out.

Enjoy the chapter… and review.

**Chapter 13: One Secret**

_Nothing is ever truly forgotten._

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Lucius Malfoy slammed his cane down onto the desk.

To Albus, there was nothing more frustrating in this world than men who could not listen to reason; men that were so completely stuck in the beliefs they had been raised with, that they couldn't see the other side. They couldn't see the whole picture.

He watched the man with bemusement. It seemed only yesterday that a blonde Slytherin Prefect stood before him, not daring to show such disrespect to his Headmaster _despite_ the unpleasant thoughts that may have been running through the boy's head.

_Whatever has happened to common decency?_

The pompous wizard waved his hands, gesticulating pointedly as he spoke. "A man has died, Dumbledore! Either close down the school until the culprit is dealt with… or resign as Headmaster."

"Ahhh and there it is." Albus picked a lemon drop out of the jar on his desk and popped it into his mouth, suddenly wishing that he had taken Argus up on his offer to install in his office a trapdoor that was enchanted to open above the lake. "I wonder… from where does this exceedingly stern command come, Lucius? I was under the impression that I had the full backing of the Ministry as well as the Board of Governors. Have you… _persuaded_ them to change their minds?"

Lucius sneered and, flicking at Albus' teetering silver pendulum, whispered silkily, "_Yes,_ _I have."_

Albus nodded demurely and, his voice dripping with politeness, replied, "Then I shall be assuring those you have _persuaded_ that they and their families have my full protection from any… unwanted visitors… should they choose to second guess their decisions." He floated the tea tray over to the two men. "Would you care for some tea?"

Lucius reddened and slapped the tea tray out of the air, sending it clattering across the floor. Cassius stepped forward, brandishing his cane in the air. "Now see here, Dumbled-"

"Enough." Albus stood and let his magic flare freely across the room. His many silver measuring instruments whirred to life, screaming their objections to his unleashed core. "I believe I have tolerated this foolishness for far too long. The school will _not_ be closed. Hagrid will _not_ be arrested. I will _not _resign as Headmaster while our... _mutual acquaintance_… threatens Hogwarts. And I will certainly not stop pushing your department for deserved funds, Cassius. Unless you intend to bring this matter before the Wizengamot, of which I am Chief, then I think this particular conversation is at an end, gentleman."

Lucius and Cassius were physically pushed away as his power pulsed with every word. They were all the way to the door when Albus reigned in his wild magic and sat back down into his soft, buttock-soothing armchair. The upholstered purple cushions let out a sigh of happiness as he leaned back into their warmth.

_Ah, you're most welcome, chair._

Albus smiled pleasantly at his two former pupils. "Leaving so soon? I had hoped you would stay for tea. Ah well, it cannot be helped, I suppose. Industrious men such as yourselves are far too busy to bother with morning tea. I quite understand. Good day."

The two men bristled and strode purposefully from his office.

He sagged back into the cushions and closed his eyes, truly feeling his one hundred and eleven years. His fight with the magic-immune basilisk the previous night had been most draining. Yet battling the legendary beast was nowhere near as exhausting as dealing with the event's aftermath.

"You do not look well, Albus."

His eyes snapped open, darting back and forth; frantically searching for the source of the voice he had been hearing so often in his dreams. Yet the only movement in his circular office came from his silver ward-detector as it vigorously whirred away on a small pedestal.

The office was entirely empty. Albus was alone… and yet… he could _feel_ him. He had always been able to tell where the boy was when they were in a room together. It was, perhaps, a side effect of being completely in love.

Albus tentatively reached out with his mind to the far corner of the office… and was slapped away viciously.

"I will reveal myself when I wish to, Albus."

"Why do you come, Gellert? To taunt me with my mistake?" He shook his head. "How could I have been foolish enough to tell you? How could I have been foolish enough to _trust_ you?"

"Because you cannot resist me?"

Albus grimaced and reached into his sleeve. Unsurprisingly, he found his wand missing. "You do not _deserve_ to be free, my love. You are responsible for the deaths of millions. You do not deserve to obtain the Hallows."

"No… I do not deserve to be free… but I am free nonetheless. No… I do not deserve to obtain the Hallows… but they will be mine nonetheless."

Albus chuckled. "You were always like this, you know. I think it was what drew me to you in the first place; your passionate obstinacy. Tell me, how did you escape from the Labyrinth? And how did you stage your death? I saw your body… it was as real as I am."

"The dark holds many secrets, Albus. It cost me more than a few fingers to create an adequate simulacrum."

Albus was briefly shocked. He had never known Gellert had delved that deeply into the darker magics. He realized now why the man was hiding from sight. Much of his flesh would have had to have been sacrificed for the spare body's creation.

"As for my escape," whispered Gellert breathlessly, "it took… remorse. _True_ remorse. Despite what you may think… I _am_ truly sorry for all that I did; for all the innocents that died by my hand. I _feel_ their pain… _every_ day. I have traversed the Labyrinth of Nurmengard; immersed myself within the vast pit of my sins to escape from the wretched maze. I carry the weight of my dirtied soul as a free man. All I seek now, Albus, is to unite the Hallows."

"Why have you not taken the cloak?"

Gellert hesitated. "It… It may remain with the girl until I have the stone."

_He does not wish to steal from her… interesting. _"You have found it, then?"

"I have, Albus… and I'm surprised you have not. It was only a simple jump of logic to deduce its last owner. I think perhaps a part of you knew, but you were unwilling to take the necessary steps, yes?"

Albus frowned, almost _feeling_ Gellert's knowing smirk. "I ask again, Gellert… why have you come?"

"Even though I have located the stone, I cannot retrieve it. The enchantments are unfamiliar. I… am in need of your assistance."

Albus laughed banally, popped a lemon drop into his mouth, and sighed. "And you think I will assist you willingly? That is a most foolish assumption, especially for one as brilliant as you." He held out his hand. "Give me the wand, Gellert. You, as well as I, know that it will serve you no longer. Unless… Do you plan to kill me?"

"I couldn't even if I wanted to, mein liebster," Gellert said softly, his deep rolling voice sending a tingle down Albus' spine. "No… the wand will serve _you._ _You_ will retrieve the ring. _You_ will wield the cloak. _You_ will unite the Hallows… and we shall _together_ be the Lords of Death."

He shook his head, folding his hands across his belly. "Alas, I will not. _We_ will not. We are not worthy men, Gellert."

"You will," wheezed Gellert furiously. "Or… or I shall kill Harriet Potter!"

Albus smiled at the uncertainty in the man's voice. "No, I don't think you will… will you? You say remorse fills your soul and… I believe you. I saw that remorse in your eyes. I can feel it in your flowers." Albus picked up the small metal daisy from his desk. "That is why you left this, yes? To convince me? I do not think you could murder Harry. She is, in your mind, an innocent. Am I correct?"

Gellert laughed. It was a deep booming laugh, dripping with power that was nearly equal to Albus' own. "Innocence does not last forever. The _second_ she slips, Albus, I will be there… holding a wand to her pretty throat. You will then make your choice."

Albus stood and let his magic flow unchecked once more. "This quest will drive you to madness, Gellert! And if you cannot see that, then I must stop you once more. Nurmengard can hold you no longer, my love… but perhaps the highest security cell in Azkaban will!"

As quick as lightning, he jerked his hand backward and the Elder wand soared across the room. Albus snatched it out of the air. With a flourish, a magnificent grid of golden light, ten feet wide, erupted out of the wand's tip. It flew across the room at a tremendous speed and slammed into the wall where Gellert had most assuredly been standing.

The cage, meant to entrap any man with unbreakable bonds of energy, didn't yield a body.

Gellert was gone.

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Five o'clock.

_Patrol time._

Cold flooded the cell as they drew near. He could hear their rattling breaths even through several floors and stone walls.

His own breath misted.

The surface of the stones beneath his hands became slippery and wet.

_James… dead. Lily… dead._

A drip of dew fell upon his face.

And then another.

And another.

He wondered where the suddenly condensed drips had come from; from whose piss and sweat the water of the dew drop had previously evaporated.

There was a soft giggle.

A voice, laced with a touch of madness, echoed out from the dark in a sickening childish sing-song. _"Here they come. Drip drop. Drip drop. Drip drop."_ Bellatrix's pale hands clasped the bars lining the left side of his cell. _"An itty bitty Sirius caught in a spider's web. Down came Bella to chop off Siri's head! HA HA!"_

Sirius leaned back against the wall, folding his newspaper and closing his eyes. He refused to look through the bars at his cousin, who was only able to maintain what little that was left of her sanity by taunting him day and night.

"Sirius. SIRIUS. **SIRIUS. **_Sirius."_

He didn't fault her. He hated the mad Death Eater bitch with every fiber of his being… but he didn't fault her. She was doing what she had to do to keep herself alive in this God forsaken place… exactly like he was.

"Did you know that Rosemerta used to suckle Lucius' cock every night during seventh year?" Bellatrix giggled happily. "Did you know that, Siri? Did you know that he fucked her in the arse for _a whole year_? Did you know that she loved every minute of it? You could hear her screams through the silencing charms. Nasty little tart she was; passed around from House to House. 'Rosie the Shrieking-Shack' they used to call her."

It wasn't true. He had heard a different magnificent story of what a slag his old girlfriend was every day for the past nine years. The stories changed and contradicted and became wild and ridiculous. They were the ravings of a mad woman.

To Sirius… it was just white noise; white noise in this hell hole of silence that was only broken by the occasional screams of terror from inside Rabastan's cell.

The cells in Azkaban were separated from each other by only a set of bars. Rabastan was to his right, Bellatrix to his left, and Rudolphus was around the corner. A single solitary wall blocked them from the Dementors that roamed the corridors. He had heard a rumor from some rather talkative Aurors that bars would soon replace the lone wall in the high security cells so as to 'better keep an eye the prisoners.' _Getting too expensive to feed us I expect; Fudge must be hoping we'll get kissed. I wonder how far apart they'll be. I might be able to slip out as a dog._

A guilty voice in his head cried out, _'It's your fault they're dead. You wanted Peter as the Secret Keeper. You belong here.'_

Sirius quieted the voice with blank numbness. Any anguish he felt would be intensified tenfold by the Dementors. He focused on his innocence; his one thought that kept him sane.

Rabastan screamed rather inopportunely.

His concentration was shot.

Sirius sorely wished there were walls all around. He wouldn't have to listen to the mad man's shrieks. He wouldn't have to endure his cousin's torment. He wouldn't have to watch Bellatrix and Rudolphus shagging. During his days as an Auror, he had been told that the purpose for the cell arrangement was to prevent the prisoners from being kissed through the bars, while still allowing air to circulate. But he had come up with a new theory that was based on the nightly 'through-the-bars,' coitus of his cousin and her husband.

It was to reduce the need for conjugal visits.

Sirius chuckled dryly to himself.

"Are you laughing at me, Doggy?" whispered Bellatrix in a deadly whisper.

Sirius stood, stretched, and, speaking for the first time in months, rasped sarcastically, "_Oh no._ I'm just laughing at your amusing story about Rosie… _Of course _I'm laughing at you_, _you mad cunt."

Bellatrix moaned in pleasure and Sirius heard her shuffle closer to his cell, pressing her face up to the bars. In a trembling feverish voice, Bellatrix muttered, "_Good._ _Laugh while you can._ The Dark Lord will come for me, _cousin_… and when he does, I will rip you in such _delicious_ ways. First… I'll dig out your eyes with a sharpened spoon. Then, I'll cut out your tongue with-"

Sirius whirled and shoved his foot through the bars, right into her overly pointed face. He reveled in the satisfying crunch as her nose broke beneath his heel. The black haired witch shrieked, rolling across the floor in pain.

"Ah… I've wanted to do that for years. Thank you, Bella. That was for Alice and Frank."

The woman's shrieks, however, slowly turned into maniacal laughter. She crawled back to the bars, face bleeding heavily. Her eyes were wild with fury. "Ohhhh they suffered so much, Siri. We made Longbottom watch as Rabastan took his wife. We Imperiused her and forced her to enjoy it. And you know what, Siri?" Bellatrix stuck out her tongue and _licked _one of the bars along its length. "I think Frank enjoyed it almost as much as she did; enjoyed seeing her fucked like the feral half-blood bitch she was; enjoyed it right up until the moment I destroyed their minds."

Sirius roared in fury and lunged again, but Bellatrix backed away quickly, just barely avoiding his foot. Cackling her delight at his torment, she danced to the bars on the far side of her cell, where Rudolphus grabbed at her and began to greedily lap at the blood streaming down his wife's face and neck. Bellatrix giggled, darting her tongue in and out of her mouth like the snake she was, gaunt eyes locked onto Sirius' face.

He growled and turned away, tuning out the sounds of the pair's disgusting lovemaking. Lying back down on his straw mattress, he pulled the blanket over his body, cleared his mind of all emotion, and transformed before the Dementors passed his cell door.

Yet… instead of the bone chilling cold that should have intensified as they drifted toward the High Security Cell Block… he began to feel warmth. Instead of despair, he felt hope.

Quite suddenly, there was a massive boom and a brilliant flash of multicolored light, illuminating the darkness where the blanket did not meet the floor. Several short flashes of white light followed.

Bellatrix's moans of pleasure were cut short. A moment of complete silence reigned over the cell.

And then…

"Sirius," wheezed a voice that he had never expected to hear again.

Transforming back into his human form, he sat up, slack-jawed, the blanket falling away from his body.

Sitting on the floor across the length of the cell was none other than Albus Dumbledore. For the first time that Sirius had witnessed, the man was dressed in plain back robes that allowed his body to blend into the shadows. His phoenix sat on his shoulder; it was glaring at Sirius threateningly, promising pain should he make any movements towards the old man.

Dumbledore waved his hand nonchalantly. "Good evening, Sirius. I see now how you so often evaded being caught out of bounds during your school years.

"Albus?" cried Sirius, completely amazed. "W-What are you… what are you doing here?

"I'm afraid we do not have the time to catch up. The Dementors will be here shortly."

Bellatrix, Rudolphus, and Rabastan were lying on the floor of their cells, breathing, yet unmoving. Sirius, for whatever reason, was left awake. _The lone innocent._ Sudden anger for the man that had condoned his imprisonment without a trial flared to life. "Oh?" He croaked dryly. "I'm afraid I do have time, Dumbledore. One hundred years without parole in fact."

"Do not test me, Sirius," said Dumbledore coolly. "This is neither the time nor the place for anger. If you ever wish to see your Goddaughter with your soul intact, you will cooperate fully."

"H-Harriet?" he asked in a whisper, his hardened heart melting into mush.

"Yes. Harry has had a rather unique experience that has brought your guilt into question. Thus, I will need to view the memory of that night before we progress any further."

Sirius nodded rapidly, lowered his mental shields, locked eyes with Dumbledore, and felt the man's gentle touch in his mind.

He relived it all: the hand, James body, Lily's body, Harry in his arms, Dawlish, Hagrid, Peter, the chase, the capture, and the slimy rat's explosive escape. The images flashed across his mind's eye in rapid succession, recreating all the emotions he had felt that night.

When Dumbledore's touch slid out of his head, Sirius was left drowning in the memory of the worst day of his life; a memory that he had long since suppressed. A soft sob bubbled up from his chest.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I am truly sorry, Sirius. I admit, I too was irrational and furious that night… and I made mistakes. We all made mistakes."

"I've spent ten years in this wretched place because of your mistakes, Dumbledore. TEN!"

The old man seemed to crumple with frailty. "I plead of you, Sirius. There will be time for your righteous anger, but it is not now. Harry has asked to see you. When I informed the Ministry of her request… well, let us simply say that our beloved Minister Fudge is not fond of the idea that you may be an innocent man that he wrongly imprisoned. It would look most horrid on his re-election ticket."

Sirius eyed the door warily. "What does this mean, Albus? Am I… Am I to be kissed?"

Dumbledore hesitated, then nodded gravely. "Events have been set in motion. Whispers and rumors fly to my ears. The ministry will do everything it can to prevent this visit and the inevitable trial. There will likely be an accident involving your cell door."

Sirius' pulse quickened.

The wizened man pulled out a brown wand and handed it to him. Sirius' fingers brushed the familiar knot where he used to place his thumb. _My wand._

"It will likely be some time before the plan is put into action… but when the time comes; when the door opens," whispered Dumbledore, "use it well."

"So I'm to fight off hundreds of Dementors on my lonesome?" asked Sirius incredulously. "Why can't we go the way you came in; with your bird?"

Dumbledore reached out to stroke the head of the phoenix. "You have killed Death Eaters, Sirius. Your innocence is lost. Besides myself and young Harry, no man or woman that has killed would be able to withstand the purity of Fawkes' flame. You would most assuredly be incinerated. No… you must leave by another path. I imagine that your Animagus form would be most helpful in your escape."

Sirius felt the chill of the Dementors' breath emanating through the grate in the door; heard the rattling of the inhaled air being sucked through the small holes in the metal.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The Dementors were so close. "Dumbledore, can you… can you bring Harry to see me with Fawkes? She's the one good memory the Dementors can't seem to get at. I want to see her."

Dumbledore shook his head and wheezed, "I hesitate to bring her to the prison while the Dementors prowl the halls. I'm sorry. Nevertheless, I have faith that you will see her again. Now, I must go. They come."

With a flash and a bang… the old man disappeared.

Sirius quickly transformed once more.

_Here we go._

There was a loud rattling intake of breath.

The tiny lights shining through the door's grate were immersed in shadow.

Despite Dumbledore's assurance that the Dementors would not come for him for some time, Sirius kept his paw on his wand.

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Harry watched with trepidation as Ginny unwrapped the long package. She was sure the girl would like her gift… but the tiniest fleeting feeling of doubt nagged at the back of her mind. In the few days since she had made Alice leave… all of her friendships suddenly felt so fragile. She was so scared of losing Ginny… and that fear had seeped into everything that she did with her.

The girl in her lap squealed in delight.

"Harry!" cried Ginny exuberantly, hands running tentatively over the thick polish of her new Nimbus Two-Thousand, as if she wasn't quite sure it was there. "You didn't!"

Harry put her head down on the redhead's shoulder, relieved. "Mmmm… I think I did. Can't go to training camp with your Dad's broom, now can you? The thing would spontaneously combust from the workout."

"Mum'll go spare!"

She laughed and whispered, "No, see, I'll say I wanted another broom just in case mine snapped and that I'm 'lending it to you.' We just won't say I'm lending it to you permanently."

Tossing the broom aside, Ginny spun in her lap and pushed Harry back into the bedding. A large wet sloppy kiss was placed on her cheek as the girl nuzzled her.

Harry giggled as her toes curled, partly due to happiness and partly due to disgust from the large amount of saliva being applied to her face. "Ewww… Gin, quit."

Ginny sat back, eyes blazing with the one thing Harry needed above all else. "Harry," she whispered. "You really shouldn't have. It's too much."

"No it's not, silly. It didn't even dent my vault. If you Weasleys won't take my money outright… then I'm sure as hell going to spoil you rotten with presents." Harry reached up, tangled her fingers into the downy soft hair at the back of Ginny's neck, and pulled her down into a tight hug. "Happy Twelfth Birthday, GinBug."

The redhead giggled and raised her head to look into Harry's eyes. "Don't call me that. It's too… brotherly."

Harry frowned. _Am I not… not as good as-_

Ginny laughed and tickled Harry's sides. "You know that's not what I meant. I mean we're… Oh Harry… I dunno… we're more than that and… I dunno… you know?"

Harry knew exactly what Ginny was trying to say… but she couldn't put it into words either. "Yeah."

Ginny bounced up. "Oi! Let's go flying!"

"But… I have Herbology in ten minutes."

Ginny folded her arms and shot her an incredulous look.

Harry grinned. "You're absolutely right."

When she returned to Ginny's room with her broom, she shuffled towards the window. Her heart wrenched when she saw the little trail of non-dusty surface surrounding Frances' pot.

_She… she should've told me._

Suddenly feeling angry and rather reckless, Harry put Frances aside and looked back at Ginny with a smirk. "Hey Gin. Watch this." She took a few steps back, ran, and leapt out of the open window in a dive.

She dropped like a rock.

The wind beat against her face as the windows of Gryffindor tower rushed past her in a blur.

The ground was closing in… but she didn't mount. Her heart started to race. Adrenaline pumped through her brain.

Four hundred feet.

Three hundred feet.

Two hundred feet.

One hundred feet.

Fifty.

Twenty-Five.

Fifteen.

With ten feet to spare, she pulled the broom between her legs and wrenched it upwards. Harry shot across the grass and out over the lake, soaring around its bank to land on a nearby turret.

Harry was barely able to hear the clatter of a broomstick hitting stone overtop the sound of her own blood rushing across her eardrums. Hands found her back and whirled her around. Ginny's angry face glared at her. The redhead grabbed her by the collar and pushed her roughly up against the Gothic balustrade.

"Ouch! _What?"_ muttered Harry, looking down at the ground guiltily, already knowing exactly 'what.'

"_Excuse me?"_ whispered Ginny fiercely. "Did you just ask me that?"

"No, I didn't," said Harry smartly, trying to wrench Ginny's hands off. "Piss _off,_ Gin!"

"Stop being such a stupid bint!" yelled Ginny angrily, tightening her grip on Harry's clothes and shaking her. "You've been like this for three days. Snapping at me and shutting me out. I know you're upset about Alice but you don't have to take it out on me!"

"I'm not upset-"

"Shut it, Harry! I know you better than that!" Ginny's eyes moistened and she pushed Harry painfully into the stone. Their faces only inches away, the redhead muttered, "How could you _do_ that to me? You know how much I… how much I…" Ginny scrunched up her face and pounded on Harry's chest. "How could you do that; make me watch you almost kill yourself?"

Words failed her, partly because she had never seen Ginny this angry and partly because she didn't know why she had done it. Perhaps for a moment's thrill to take her mind off Alice. Or perhaps it was to distract her from the uncomfortable piece of cloth wedged up inside of her sex. Or perhaps it was the horrible cramps messing with her head.

"I'm sorry," whispered Harry, slipping her arms around Ginny's waist. "I just… I don't know, alright? I'm upset and I'm, you know… _on the kit_."

Ginny released Harry's collar and slumped against her chest, breathing heavily. They slid down the rough stone onto the floor of the turret.

"Morgana's Little Gift doesn't give you an excuse!" whispered Ginny, burying her head into Harry's neck. "Don't you ever do anything like that again or Merlin help me I'll murder you myself."

"I won't! I just… I feel awful and my moods are swinging and… I needed to do something. I miss her."

"I know," Ginny said, dragging her fingers lightly across Harry's neck. "Just… promise me you won't do it again."

Harry nodded rapidly, running her hands through Ginny's thick red hair. "I won't, Gin. I promise."

The redhead looked up at her, large amber eyes gleaming in the early morning sunlight. Harry felt the familiar urge to do more. Ginny leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her jaw line. "Losing you once was enough."

Harry closed her eyes tightly to prevent herself from crying. Her emotions were passing through her like waves. One would crash over her, recede, and then the next would crash; again and again; over and over. She squeezed the redhead tightly. "I'm… I'm _really_ sorry."

Cupping Harry's cheek, Ginny mumbled into her ear with a sigh, "You know… you can be a bigger prat than Ron sometimes. Let's… let's fly for real now, yeah? Teach me the McShea Twist."

"Alright, Gin," Harry agreed, grabbing her best friend's hand.

Ginny's little snitch charm wiggled strenuously to touch Harry's quill.

They flew for roughly an hour before Harry had to leave for Potions.

_Stupid buggering Snape._

The fact that she had to switch abruptly from her favorite activity with her favorite person, to perhaps her least favorite activity with her least favorite person, put her in an extremely bad mood.

Ron seemed to notice as soon as she walked into the dungeons. "You alright, mate? That expression you're making doesn't suit your wee little chipmunk cheeks." He squeezed his face to look like a chipmunk in an attempt to cheer her up, but it didn't help at all.

"I'm… I'm fine," Harry mumbled, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it." She sat on the stool next to him and cast her gloomy gaze around the room.

Potions with the Slytherins was perhaps the only class she had left that was still full. Nearly every single Ravenclaw had left on the Hogwarts express. Luna was one of the ten or so that had decided to stay. Half of Hufflepuff had left as well.

Almost all of the Gryffindors had refused to leave the school despite their parents' protests. At breakfast yesterday, the Weasleys, as well as Harry, had received Howlers from Mrs. Weasley that screamed threats of bloody murder if they refused to come home… which they did. Even Percy defied his mother's wishes. He wrote back, stating that his education was far more important than the threat of an overgrown snake that could be killed by a rooster, of which there were now hundreds clucking and crowing around the school.

The Slytherins seemed to think that they were completely immune from attack. The student's of Salazar's house strutted through the school confidently, not utilizing the mirrors to look around corners. They hassled the Aurors, kicked at roosters, and were generally just acting like their normal overly obnoxious selves.

Snape, the truest of Slytherins, was _particularly_ obnoxious that lesson. He hovered behind her, criticizing every little thing she did as they worked on their Babbling Potions, trying desperately to evoke a reaction so he could give her detention. Harry wondered vaguely if only obnoxious people were sorted into Slytherin… or if being in Slytherin made people obnoxious.

Snape slapped the tablespoon out of her hand, sending the contents flying into Hermione's hair. "Half a _teaspoon_ of Lacewing, Potter. Not a tablespoon. Didn't your parents teach you to read? Oh… pardon me… _of course they didn't._"

That almost took her over the edge. A burst of wind blew through the classroom as Snape smiled nastily at her.

Pansy was even _worse_ than Snape. Harry didn't really understand why the bint hated her so much… but hate her she did. Whenever Pansy wasn't fondling Draco like a slag, she was shooting little spitballs into Harry's hair with a tube made out of parchment. The fifth time this occurred, Harry locked eyes with Draco, silently warning him that his girlfriend was going to regret it if another spitball found its way onto her body.

Draco grabbed the little paper tube and whispered harshly Into the girl's ear.

Pansy glared at him.

Draco's reprimand, or whatever it was, seemed only to spurn the girl on. Pansy progressed from spitballs to caterpillar guts. She mashed them in just the right way so that the juices squirted onto Harry's robes.

By the time the bell rang, Harry was absolutely furious. She glared across the tables at the stony faced girl that had made the lesson even more of a hell than it needed to be.

Pansy's mask of prim icy indifference slid away when their eyes met. She smirked, winked, and pressed her grinding pestle down onto the table.

Harry saw the juice fly.

When the caterpillar innards splashed across her face, something inside of her snapped. All of the frustration and pain she had been feeling flooded over her, completely freezing her rationality. Harry screamed in rage, jumped on the table, and dove at the bitch.

As she knocked Pansy to the ground, a hurricane force wind blew through the room , scattering bodies, cauldrons, and parchment.

She vaguely heard Snape yell, "Potter! Sixty points from Gryffindor!"

But she paid him no mind. Harry tangled her hands into Pansy's perfectly straight black hair and wrenched viciously.

The surprised squeal of pain that she elicited from the girl was so immensely satisfying.

However, before she could do any real damage to the Slytherin, Ron's arm encircled her waist and he quickly pulled her from the dungeon. Denied her revenge, Harry conjured up the most gruesome picture of Quirrell and Lavender that she could remember, attached it to a mental probe, and shoved it into both Pansy's and Snape's mind, willing with all her might that they would _feel_ the terror that Harry felt.

Mild happiness was the only type of emotional projection she had managed so far, so Harry grinned when Pansy shrieked and Snape's sallow skin became even paler.

_Take that._

Ron dragged her down the hall to an empty classroom and Hermione shut the door behind them. When it was closed, Harry collapsed against her friends' shoulders, bursting into tears and snotting heavily into their robes.

_Stupid Snape._

_Stupid Parkinson._

_I miss Alice._

_I want Ginny._

_I hate Voldemort._

_I want ice cream._

_I want Ginny._

"Um… Harry?" asked Hermione gently. "Is it your… you know… _your time_?"

Harry choked on a sob and nodded against her neck.

"Her what?" asked Ron curiously.

"Is this the first one?" whispered Hermione, rubbing her back.

Harry whimpered a "yes."

Confused, Ron shook the two of them as if they hadn't heard him. "Is this her first what?"

"Do shut it, Ron," commanded the bushy-haired girl in a tone that dripped with authority.

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione glared at him. "Shutting it," he said hastily.

Stroking Harry's hair, Hermione whispered, "I had my first last year. I cried for a whole day for no reason and then the next day I was ecstatic. You just have to ride it out. I know, let me try a cheering charm. I've just read about them." Hermione whipped out her wand and tapped Harry on the head. "_Gauisus."_

Harry's tears dried instantly. Her heart skipped its beat, her chest filled with laughter, and a wide smile broke over her face. Nothing could possibly bring her down. "Oh, you're the best, Hermione. I mean it! I really do! Ha Haaa!" Harry felt that this was an appropriate time to do a cartwheel across the slimy dungeon floor.

"B-Blimey," laughed Ron. He pulled out his pet rat. "Could you do one of those on Scabbers, Mione?

"Sure she can!" cheered Harry positively. "She's Hermione Granger! The bestest witch ever!"

Hermione blushed. "I don't know about that, Harry. I think I've overdone it."

"Pishposh!" Harry couldn't control her giggles. "I like that word… _pishposh._ It's almost as delightful as 'satsuma.' SATSUUUUUUMA!"

"Yes," said Hermione matter-of-factly with a half smile upon her face. "I've _definitely_ overdone it."

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Her heart wrenched as Harry soared back to the castle for Potions.

The ache washed over her with the force of a tidal-wave.

Ginny wanted desperately to fly after her and follow her around all day; to constantly hold her so the sensation in her chest would abate. However, she doubted Snape would tolerate having his two least favorite students in the same class. Allowing them to snuggle would have been out of the question.

Looping through the air lazily, she found that she didn't quite know what to do with herself without Harry around and no classes until the afternoon. All of her friends, besides Luna who she rarely had a chance to see, were in the upper classes. She didn't really get on with any of the Gryffindor boys in her year, so she didn't have anyone to talk to during the day. Colin and Jimmy were relatively nice, Jack, Terrance, and Andrew were indifferent, but Ritchie, the ringleader of the six boys, had a rather… well… _unfortunate_ attitude towards her.

Just the other day he had put a wad of chewed up Drooble's Best Blowing Gum in her hair that had taken hours to get out, even _with_ several of Hermione's rather excellent Scourgify charms. Harry, despite Ginny's protests, had cursed Ritchie thoroughly for it and just as Ginny had thought, the act of retribution had made him even _more_ unpleasant.

Ginny didn't really understand why Ritchie was such a prat to only her. Alicia, Katie, and Angelina had all told her to pay him no mind; that he was obviously only treating her this way because he had a crush on her. Harry had readily supported this idea, absolutely refusing to believe that anyone could truly dislike her best friend. _Yeah. A crush my foot. Plenty of other ways to get my attention besides putting gum in my hair. Stupid ponce._ _Besides_… _it's not me he likes._ Ginny had seen the mooning looks on his face when Harry walked into the same room. She suspected that it was the other girl that he favored, but she still couldn't fathom why that would make him dislike _her._

Needless to say, his attitude caused the other boys to tease her as well. Even Colin, the most mild mannered of the lot had called her "Ginge Minge' and 'Fire Crotch' a few times as she passed, just so he wouldn't be ostracized from their little group. He had apologized to her privately each time, telling her shyly that he actually thought her hair was 'really beautiful.'

Her little crush had quickly shifted from Michael, with his rather girlish long hair, to Colin and his slightly mousy look. It was a bit of a like-dislike crush, as he wouldn't be seen talking to her in public.

Ginny sighed heavily. _Why can't everyone just be like Harry?_

After a few hours of aimless flying, Ginny landed for a quick shower in the girls' lockers. She walked across the pitch, ducked under the red and gold curtain, and trudged tiredly into the…

_... already steam filled changing room?_

Waving her hand to clear some of the vapor away, she made her way to the nearest bench, feet squelching on the moist tile.

There was a soft giggle.

Ginny froze.

The giggle had come from the adjoining shower room.

Another breathy giggle.

Then… there was a moan; a moan that sent a shiver down her spine.

Ginny tip-toed slowly toward source of the giggle. She leaned against the edge of the walled off room and peeked cautiously around the corner.

It took her a moment to recognize Katie and Alicia through the steam with their soaked hair down out of their customary ponytails. They too seemed to be having a quick wash… but… they… were…

Ginny's mouth went dry and her fingers tightly gripped at the grit between the tiles so she wouldn't fall over.

They were kissing.

_Really _kissing.

Their tongues were dancing lightly against each other's lips.

Ginny watched with both horror and fascination as Katie's hands drifted up and down Alicia's bare back, dragging white fingernail trails into the blonde girl's skin. Alica growled and gripped the other girl's arse tightly, pushing their hips together.

Ginny shivered even though her body felt warm.

Alicia's leg rose slightly and Katie began to avidly grind up and down Alicia's thigh.

Ginny couldn't look away; couldn't look away from their heaving breasts; from their firm Quidditch honed bums; from their sleek dripping wet bodies as they ground together in perfect harmony. It was almost as if they were dancing intensely to some internal rhythm. It was even more intense than those two women that she had seen in that odd mirror.

With a small gasp that she caught from escaping her mouth by covering it with her hands, Ginny realized that she had seen this before.

The brunette was moaning and gasping; moaning just like Harry did at night.

Their legs were entwined… just like how Harry would wrap her legs around her thigh at night.

Katie was sliding against Alicia… just like how Harry would occasionally slide against her hip at night.

Heart pounding, face flushed, skin tingling strangely, Ginny whirled around and ran from the changing room as fast as her legs could carry her, not stopping until she was back in the safety of her room.

_Does she… she can't be…_

Ginny flashed back to the Burrow.

'_It… honestly… it was weird… but… a bit nice.'_

'_How can kissing a girl be nice?'_

'_I… I dunno. It… it just was. Boys like it don't they?'_

'_Yeah but… didn't it feel wrong?'_

'_I… yeah… no. I don't know! I can't explain it Gin.'_

Ginny collapsed onto the bed, screamed into her pillow, and shook her head fiercely. _No… this is… no!_

'_Gin… can this… can this be our one secret? I just don't want to… you'll hate me if I tell you. I can't… I can't lose you.'_

She curled into a ball, not understanding anything. _Why were they touching like that? Why were they kissing? Why were they… Girls aren't supposed to… to…_

Ginny gasped._ Does Harry want to do that? Oh God… that's… that's so… so… so… _She remembered Harry's lips on her arm; how it had felt strange… but… exciting. They had been naked together before and it was nice. She liked the feel of Harry's soft skin. It was all the better to snuggle. Not to mention that being so completely close to the girl soothed her ache. They had held each other in the tub… but it was never ever like what she had just witnessed… _was it?_

_Come on. It's not like that. She wants to kiss Ron. But then… why does she… Oh Merlin._

Ginny buried her face into the bedding and cried; cried because she didn't understand; cried because Harry hadn't told her this one_ huge_ secret; cried because the image of her touching Harry all over while they kissed was burned into her mind forever. She hated crying. For a split second, Ginny resented the black-haired girl for ruining everything.

But it was truly only for a split second. Ginny remembered the promise she'd made beneath the statue of that talking boy and his rude fairy girlfriend.

'_Don't do that to me again, Gin… please.'_

'_Never again.'_

Ginny had the sinking feeling that things were never going to be the same.

_Maybe if she… Maybe if I let her do those things… then nothing will change._

Ginny didn't go to any of her classes that day. Rather, she curled up into a ball on the bed… and waited; waited for everything to end; waited for Harry to stop liking her because she was too afraid to do those things.

When the door to their room finally opened, Ginny tensed and focused on the wall.

"Hey, want to go down to the lake? Fred and George are setting off some of their…" Harry trailed off. The bed sank with weight and a hand lightly touched her shoulder. "Gin?" Harry asked in her sweet soprano voice. "What's up with you? Are you sick?"

Ginny didn't answer. _How can I… Merlin… this is too much._

"Ginny," whispered Harry pleadingly. "Tell me what's wrong. Is it about earlier? I'm really sorry. I can't even describe how sorry I am."

Ginny shook her head weakly. "No. I… I saw something today. Something that... Merlin, it was..."

"What was it? Snape's knickers? That'd make me feel sick too." Harry climbed over her body and lay down next to her. The girl's green eyes sparkled with mirth beneath her round glasses. "I miss you during classes, Gin. I missed you _so_ much today that Hermione had to do a cheering charm on me. Ooo… I got back at Parkinson for a year's worth of taunts and only lost _sixty_ points! Not bad for a day's work, eh?"

The corners of Ginny's mouth twitched.

Harry bit her lip and smiled. "Alright… that should have evoked at least a full grin. Who's Miss Grumpy-Face now?"

Harry moved closer to rub their noses together.

And Ginny shied away, just like she had before. She didn't mean to do it. She was just… confused.

Harry's smile melted instantly. The same look that had appeared on her face that day in the hospital returned with a vengeance; it was fear mixed with heartbreak. Her eyes moistened and she flipped over, hiding her face from view. "You… you figured it out, didn't you? I _knew_ this would happen. I wanted it to be secret. I knew you'd hate me."

"No! I don't!" Ginny cried tearfully. She sat up and rolled Harry over. Straddling the girl's waist, hands trembling, Ginny slowly pulled off her own shirt and unclipped her skirt, tossing them onto the floor. She sat there in nothing but her polka-dot knickers, her arms folded across her bare chest, unable to meet Harry's eyes. With a shuddering apprehensive breath, she whispered, "I made a promise. I won't… I _can't_ hate you, Harry. I love you so much and… and… I really don't want things to change. So… if… if this is what you… If this is what needs to be done…" Ginny trailed off, eyeing Harry's pink glossy lips. Quite suddenly, butterflies began to flap in her stomach. There was a strange tingling sensation in her nipples… like they were hardening. "Do… do we kiss?" Ginny asked Harry softly. "I… I don't mind. It wasn't too bad on my arm."

Harry was staring at her breasts like she had never seen them before, her mouth slightly agape.

Ginny closed her eyes.

_What are you doing, Ginny? _

_I love her. If I don't she'll... she'll leave me behind._

_This is crazy. _

_I know... but I love her so much. I..._

_Stop!_

She was so confused.

Harry's slightly calloused hands found the bare skin of her waist and slid around to the small of her back. Surprisingly, a spine tingling shock shot through her body. _Ohhh… well, that… that was nice, I guess._

"Gin…" Harry giggled and pulled her down into a tight hug. "That's not quite what this is about."

Ginny's eyes popped open. "What?" she muttered incredulously. "B-But Katie and Alicia were… were snogging and they were doing what you do at night."

Harry mouthed like a fish. "Katie and Alicia were… were _snogging?_"

Ginny suddenly felt a bit silly sitting naked on top of Harry. _Was I wrong? _"Yeah… and they were… they were naked and… touching… but I dunno… it wasn't normal touching, Harry. And… and Katie looked just like… like…"

"Like me when I'm with you?" Harry ran her hands over Ginny's shoulders and the butterflies flapped furiously.

Ginny nodded. "Just tell me, Harry. You said you would. No more secrets. Please, I'm… I'm so confused."

Harry took a deep shuddering breath. "_I can't!_ I'm... I'm scared, Ginny! When you found out I was a Parselmouth… I just can't do that again!"

Ginny lay down into the bedding in the crook of the older girl's arm and whispered urgently, "_No!_ It'll never happen again! I promise!" She turned Harry's chin with her thumb so she could gaze into glistening green eyes. "_I promise, _Harry_._ I made a vow, remember? I'll… I'll be right next to you for forever and ever."

Harry closed her eyes tightly, trailed her fingertips along Ginny's arm, and muttered, "That's a long time. I'm holding you to that, Weasley."

Ginny clutched at Harry's back and, pulling her as close as she could so they were nose to nose, whispered the same thing she had said back at the Burrow. "And I'll stick to it, Potter."

Harry cupped her cheek. "Gin... Do you trust me?"

Ginny nodded fervently. Whatever Harry had to say... Ginny wasn't going to hurt her like last time. "Yeah. I trust you. Always, Harry."

"Then... please don't leave me." Clenching her jaw, Harry seemingly steeled herself. "O-Okay… Well… when I augment my magic, I use my happiest memory as a focus point to flip the power in my core over to my brain. The reactions I have are... are just my body responding to the magic filling my mind. They were supposed to be temporary... but..."

Emeralds met her ambers.

"But what?" asked Ginny in trepidation.

Harry nosed at her cheek. "But… my happiest memory… It's _you,_ Gin; at the station… when we met."

Ginny's heart fluttered as she flashed back to the bench where she had met a small black-haired girl in a well cared for white dress with black velvet around its middle. There had been something so appealing about Harry that day; about the girl that wouldn't look at her. Ginny suddenly realized where the ache had come from. She had _needed_ that girl to look at her, had needed to be her friend, and that need had been growing stronger ever since.

"_Me?" _whispered Ginny. "That's really your… your happiest memory?"

"Yeah," mumbled Harry, placing a light kiss on her cheek. "I… when I think of you… I think of strawberries. And… I use the smell of strawberries to flip my magic. You always smell like strawberries, Ginny. _Always." _Harry rolled on top of her and kissed her neck. A tear fell onto Ginny's ear. When Harry spoke again... her voice was trembling. "Your skin tastes like strawberries... and... I..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "I can't do this, Ginny... please don't make me."

Ginny reached up and brushed the tears away. "Look at me."

Harry's beautiful eyes locked onto her own.

Ginny trailed a finger down her cheek, trying to convey everything she felt in a small touch. "I... I won't leave you, Harry. I trust you... now... now you have to trust me."

Harry nodded, the tiniest of smiles twitching on her lips. "You know... you even look a bit like a strawberry."

Ginny laughed and slapped Harry's bum. "Oi!"

Harry's lips twitched again and she continued. "Augmenting stops my dreams… so... so all night I relive the first time we met, floating in a sun of power and the heat of it… well it makes me feel good." Harry flushed bright red. "Gods Gin, it makes me feel _so_ bloody good. It was supposed to go away after a few months… but when I'm with you and augmenting… it comes back. Strawberries overload my senses and I just… well, my body feels like… like…

"Like what Katie was feeling?" supplied Ginny helpfully.

Harry nodded. "It... It sets my skin on fire. Ginny... it... it feels like heaven and I... I want to touch all over."

Ginny sighed and brushed the hair out of Harry's face. "You silly twonk! How could… How could you think I would hate you for something you can't help? For something that makes you feel good? I don't... I don't understand it but... Merlin... all this time… Harry..."

The black-haired girl squeezed her tightly. "Oh Gin... I was so scared. I thought... I thought you would stop loving me."

"Never," whispered Ginny, entwining their fingers and rolling back on top of the girl. "Never ever."

Harry cupped her cheek, eyes bright with both happiness and tears. "Good. I… I couldn't bear being alone in the love department." The black-haired girl's hands encircled her waist once again. "Not without you, Ginny. You... you taught me how to feel it."

Ginny didn't know what to say. "God, Harry... that's..."

Words couldn't describe it.

Ginny snuggled into Harry's chest and closed her eyes.

After a moment of peaceful quiet, Harry whispered sadly to her, "But... I guess you probably don't want me sleeping in here anymore though."

Ginny hesitated. She thought about the look on Katie's face and blushed furiously. There was something far too intimate about the way the two older girls had touched. _Every night she feels that; feels it because of me; thinking of me. It's so… _Ginny buried her nose into Harry's shirt. _But… I… I need her._

Harry sighed and moved to get up but Ginny forced her back down. "Stop assuming things, Harry. Don't go. I _need_ you here."

"_You do?"_ whispered Harry breathily, her cheeks flushing to a rosy pink.

"Yeah." Ginny leaned forward and lightly kissed the black-haired girl's jaw. "Whose hair would I play with at night if you went and slept in a separate bed?"

Harry shrugged. "Hermione's?"

Ginny shoved her. "That was rhetorical, you twit." A wide smile broke across Harry's face. Ginny loved that smile… the smile that was only for her. "Harry," she whispered quietly.

"Yeah, Gin?"

Ginny twirled Harry's hair around her finger. "Well, if I absolutely _had_ to kiss a girl… I'd kiss you."

Harry went beet red and covered her face with her hair. "I'd want to kiss you too."

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Tom sat upon the headboard, staring down at the sleeping girls in frustration. He raised his hand. The colors of his pale skin were rolling and frothing like liquid, slowly reverting back to the original inks.

Due to his discovery… things were not going as planned. He assumed Potter had heard the basilisk speak and had instantly alerted Dumbledore to its presence. Tom had so foolishly overlooked the girl's talents and it was a wonder he had not already been discovered. If Dumbledore so much as mentioned the name Tom Riddle to Potter, the game would be over. Fortunately, it seemed he had not. _Perhaps I am indistinguishable from my living counterpart. Yes… that would make sense. We are the same soul after all._

Dumbledore had, of course, taken precautions; precautions that foiled everything. No longer could he possess the girl and walk the halls freely. The Watchers would see his presence in the girl's mind. They would swarm and alert the old fool. Tom was positive he could handle the silver guardians… but Albus Dumbledore? He would fall to the man in seconds with the girl's weakened pool of magic.

His Prime was most upset with him. It wanted to attack. It wanted to kill. But he had instructed the massive serpent to remain safe within the Chamber. The roosters littering the hallways would kill it instantly.

The students he relied on to supply their fear had left the castle. Those that were left were either Slytherins, the hopelessly brave, or the hopelessly stupid. Nonetheless… they all felt relatively safe with so many protections. Without attacks… without the fear eating away at her… he would never be able to consume the girl's soul completely; never be able to materialize fully. He needed the Weasley girl to break without alerting Dumbledore to her sickly condition. He could only deprive her of so much sleep.

The girl herself was another problem. She was becoming more resistant to the nightmares. Potter was providing her with too much comfort and the sickening affection between the two was strengthening. The girl had not written in his diary for days and it was becoming most difficult to feed on her.

Suffice to say, he needed to separate them. The thought of jumping into the girl and killing Potter with her bare hands was oh-so-tempting, but the death of Dumbledore's favorite would surely make the man angry enough to tear apart the minds of every single person in the castle. If he delved deeply enough into Weasley's, the old man would notice his touch.

_No… I need to gain corporeal form before the Potter girl dies. I need fear. I need the girl to write. But how?_

_What if I… no, that would never work._

Potter moaned in her sleep and clutched at the little redhead.

A wide grin spread across his face as the idea popped into his brilliant mind.

_Yes… Oh yes… There's no other option quite as wonderful as that. It's time to show my cards, I think. _

Hanging off the bedding like a jungle snake, he leaned down and whispered into the girl's ear, _"Ginny."_

Her amber eyes popped open and before she could scream, he smashed into her mind and took control. Careful not to disturb Potter, Tom made the girl pick up her wand, pick up the diary, and walk into the bathroom. When the door swung shut, he made her silence the room, made her undress… and released her.

Her eyes went wide and she backed away, brandishing her wand. "No! Tom, please! _Expulso!"_

Tom smiled as the spell passed through him and slammed into the mirror, shattering it. The anguish in her voice was absolutely scintillating. That anguish was such a large part of her. It was filled with the fear of losing 'her Harry;' filled with the fear of not being good enough for the girl. He latched on to it and _cut._ His liquid skin became ever more solid as he sliced away yet another layer of her essence, consuming it. _Oh how I wish this girl did not have to die. Her soul is so… delicious._

The girl screamed in pain and tried to dodge around him, but he reached out and clasped his hand around her arm.

He squeezed.

Five finger-width swaths of the girl's flesh tore open in a shower of blood as he reached into her, latching on to her core. He pulled her to his chest and pushed himself into her body. The skin on her back was flayed away. He bit down on her neck and sank into her wounds. He could _almost_ taste the coppery flavor of her blood… but… he wasn't quite real enough.

Tom moaned as the girl's pain suddenly became _his_ pain. He quickly dragged the wand across the large cuts all over her body, sealing them shut before the girl lost too much blood. He didn't bother cleaning up. There was no need. _A nice little gift for you, Potter._

Reaching out to the mind of the great snake, he whispered, "Come to me, Prime."

"_I come, Masster." _

Moments later, a great hole widened in the bathtub and the basilisk's head rose from its depths.

He climbed upon its length, digging the girl's hands and feet into the hooked scales. "Take me to Salazar's entrance, Prime… but be silent. When we reach it, paralyze the ghost and retreat. I have a new plan."

"_Yess. Planss at lasst. Time to kill."_

The basilisk sank back into the hole. Their journey through the pipes was long and winding. When they emerged into the bathroom, Myrtle screeched, but his Prime took care of her. Her body went smoky and black. Tom had never liked the ugly girl. She looked so much like little Amy Benson who had teased him so ferociously until he had levitated her, along with Dennis Bishop, above the eel infested waters inside his cave.

Grinning, he strode confidently out of the bathroom. Down the hall, a rather fetching woman in Auror's robes leapt out of a chair, rooster cage held high. "Girl!" Her voice was dulcet despite her harsh tone. Tom would've liked to hear her scream; first in pleasure… and then for mercy.

But there wasn't the time.

"Are you insane?" she whispered heatedly, stalking towards him, her hips swaying. "What are you doing out of bed? There's a basilisk on the loose! What happened to your cl-gugrh."

Blood splattered across the girl's chest from the arterial spurt.

As Tom lowered the girl's wand, the Auror's head rolled to his feet. The look of surprise on her still slightly twitching face was almost comical. He nearly felt pity. She was beautiful in the extreme and she hadn't even had her wand out. Had she been at school with him, he would've lain with her every night… well… until he tired of her, that is.

Knowing that the Auror had only ten or so seconds of consciousness before her soul departed from this world, Tom picked up her bloodied head, kissed the woman's still moist lips, and whispered against her mouth the kindest words he had ever said and meant. _"I regret killing you. You are most unlucky."_

The eyes glazed over.

In homage to his last work of art, he used the woman's head to scrawl his message, after which he jammed the head down onto the very same spike upon which he had planted Argus'.

"_GINNY? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?_"

Tom spun, raising the wand once more.

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Harry awoke with a start.

She had been using her arm as a pillow and her charm bracelet was wiggling fiercely underneath her face. Smiling and stretching like a cat, she sat up. The little quill whirled around to point toward the bathroom.

Harry's smile grew even wider when she remembered that Ginny knew her secret and still loved her; still needed her. It felt good to be needed. Her toes curled and she giggled, rolling back into the bed to breathe in the smallest lingering hint of strawberry.

'_Do we kiss?' asked Ginny in a soft pained voice, her ears flushing pink, her eyes roaming across everything except Harry's face._

Harry hurriedly shoved the mental picture away. She didn't want to admit that the thought had briefly sounded appealing.

'_But it did. Didn't it?' _asked the familiar little voice that she had forced to the back of her mind.

_Piss off, you! It's wrong. It's gross. And that's the end… of…_

Harry's bracelet was spinning haphazardly. Left. Right. Down. Right. Left.

She stared at it in confusion_. Are the charms malfunctioning?_

Harry slowly slid out of bed and sleepily made her way to the bathroom. The door felt strange against her hand as she pushed it inward; it was almost like it was vibrating. "Ginny?" she asked in a whisper. "Are you alr-"

Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the horrific scene.

The floor and sink were littered with piles of broken glass and splattered with a thick crimson liquid that looked exactly like...

_Blood._

And lying in middle of a rather large pool of crimson… was a very familiar nightie.

Harry's heart dropped out of her chest. The silence in the bathroom, interrupted only by her heavy breathing, was absolutely suffocating. She walked forward and sank down next to the bloodied cloth. As she ran her hands over silky fabric, a steady blinding rage swelled within her chest. Someone had hurt her Ginny. Someone had made her Ginny bleed. Someone had taken her Ginny away.

Harry's vision blurred with angry tears.

_I'll hurt…_

Her body trembled violently.

_I'll hurt them._

She ground her teeth.

_I'll kill…_

A burst of vicious biting wind swept through the bathroom. Her hair swirled around her body.

_I'll kill them!_

The stall door banged back and forth on its hinges.

"I'LL BLOODY KILL THEM!" screamed Harry, shaking with fury.

Pipes burst, tiles cracked, and the glass shards that were scattered around her exploded, sending sharp bits and pieces digging into her skin.

Harry gasped as the pain brought her out of the rage induced haze that she hadn't been able to control.

The wind slowly died.

_I'll... I'll find you._

Harry stood and bolted back into their room. She snatched up the wand lying on the bedside table, made for the door, and ran up the stairs four at a time to grab the invisibility cloak. By the time she climbed through the portrait hole, her heart was pumping in overdrive, shooting pure adrenaline to her brain in a heavy torrent.

"**Halt!"** boomed the large silver sorcerer that was standing vigil outside the common room.

A loud clatter of wood on stone and the indignant squawk of a rooster echoed up to her ears from the floor below.

Harry froze as a grim-faced Auror dashed up the moving staircase. _He can't see me under the cloak. I need to find Ginny. He can't see me. He can't see me._

"**You may pass."**

Rooster cage held high above his head, the Auror whipped out his wand and shouted, _"Finite Incantatem!"_

Thankfully… nothing happened. She scooted around him as he crept forward up the last few steps. She locked eyes with the rooster and it cocked its head, clucking as if to say, _'I see you.'_

Harry frantically followed the charm as best and as quickly as she could, taking paths to avoid Aurors and the Watcher statues.

Quite suddenly, as she darted down the fifth floor corridor, the charm stopped spinning.

It was pointing straight downward. Harry flew down three flights of stairs before the small quill leveled out on the second floor.

It was pointing through a solid brick wall. She sprinted down the long hallway, avoiding as many stray roosters as she could.

She passed Madame Dupont as she rounded the corner. The woman was humming, dancing, and twirling about; waving her wand to deftly vanish piles of chicken dung. Harry had the tiniest urge to pause and watch her shimmering blonde hair twirling in the moonlight… but Ginny… Ginny was everything.

Harry rounded the next corner… and the next.

She skidded to halt, almost tripping over her own feet.

There she was.

And she…

Harry gagged.

Ginny's pale naked frame was defiled by large bloodstains; her cherry red hair was stained an even darker crimson. And in her hands…

In her hands… she was holding a woman's head, clearly belonging to the body of a decapitated Auror that lay a few feet away.

Harry's stomach churned as she watched Ginny drag the head across the wall and then viciously jam it down upon a torch spike.

Harry suddenly realized where they were. Terrified and completely confused, she pulled off the cloak and ran to the girl. "_GINNY? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?_"

The redhead spun quickly, raising the wand identical to Harry's own. At the sight of her, a sickening grin, not at all compatible with Ginny's kind inviting manner, stretched from ear to ear across the redhead's face.

Ginny waved the wand nonchalantly and Harry's arms and legs snapped together. She fell, face first, and felt her nose break against the cold stone floor.

S_pidery hands pinched her body, grabbing at her knickers._

The sensation of a shiver shot through her spine even though her muscles couldn't react_._

A foot was shoved beneath her stomach and she was flipped over, clattering heavily from side to side like a wooden plank. Overwhelmed by fear, Harry stared up into those big brown eyes, not understanding at all. _Ginny would never…_

But… it was the eyes that made her put two and two together. Ginny's amber pools were cold, unloving, and manic. She had seen the look before.

Harry's heart broke as she gazed deeply into the eyes that were and yet _weren't_ Ginny's.

_It's… Ginny. It's been Ginny all along. He's… possessed her. _

Ginny sat down on Harry's chest and intently trailed a finger over the scar on her forehead.

'_Harry laughed. "Were you having me on? You were all... I dunno. And you said you needed to tell me something."'_

'_"Yeah, I do... still can't remember what it is though."'_

The blood drained from Harry's cheeks.

_Voldemort's a Legilimens. He… he made her forget. All those times she needed to tell me… oh Gin. _

Harry angrily made a probe and shoved it into Voldemort's mind, trying to convey her message. _You sick fuck!_ _How did you get to her?_

Ginny's grin widened. She held up Tom's diary, which Harry had not seen, and waved it tantalizingly in the air. She then tapped Harry on the head with her wand.

There was a searing ache in Harry's temples as her memories were pushed apart and a new… or rather… an old memory reinserted itself.

_The redhead was grinning. "__Harry Potter__…" Ginny whispered, eyes bulging with sickening glee. "I could kill you now… but… that would bring far too much unwanted attention upon me. It's too soon for that. However, I can assure you that __you will be __dead __before this year is through!" Her head tilted in a way that made the grin seem all the more terrible. Ginny's beautiful amber eyes… they were manic; filled with hate._

_Harry __knew __that look; she had seen the expression before on another much more sinister face… Voldemort's face._

_Dumbledore spoke softly in her mind, 'Till next time then, Tom… Incendios Grata.'_

_The bond that was broken snapped back into place… but Harry's heart shattered in the process.__ '__Tom. Oh God… Ginny!'_

_Ginny raised her wand._

'_I won't let him have you!' __A rage like Harry had never felt consumed her; consumed everything that she was. It burned through her like wildfire. She lunged at Ginny. "GIVE HER BACK TO ME, YOU FUCKING BAS-"_

The information flooding into its proper place, Harry reeled as one hundred different puzzles solved simultaneously in her head. Tom… their friend Tom; the nearly seventy-year old boy that Ginny wished was real so she could marry him... was Voldemort. He had been with them for months… in their _room_. Ginny had told him. She had shared… _everything._

That same rage Harry had felt in her memory returned with a vengeance… but she could do nothing but blow wind at him; could do nothing but shatter mirrors; could do nothing but slam bathroom stall doors. Both she… and Ginny… were helpless.

"Harry Potter," whispered Tom from the redhead's mouth. "So crafty you are. I admit… I did not expect to see you. I forgot about the charms. Well, it matters not. Unless…" Ginny's face flickered in fear before returning to the sick grin. "_No_," she said silkily, stroking Harry's face with her nails. "Of course you didn't call for help. In fact, I _know_ you didn't call for help. You were blinded by the need to save your _precious_ Ginny. Am I correct?"

Harry's stomach squelched unpleasantly.

_Get bent._

Ginny laughed… but it wasn't the warm laugh that Harry loved. It was hair-raising and high pitched. The redhead caressed Harry's face. "Yes. I know you all too well, Potter. I almost wish I knew you less. I know you as well as this pathetic girl knows you, which I daresay is better than you know yourself. She _is_ rather obsessed with you. It is her _deepest desire_ to be with you _forever_." Ginny smiled nastily and leaned down to brush their noses together.

Harry cringed. It felt wrong. It felt tainted. Ginny placed a kiss on her jaw line and then reached into Harry's shirt and tightly grabbed her left breast. Harry knew what the bastard was doing. He was soiling all the touches that meant something to them.

Ginny moved her lips to Harry's ear. "I want you to know, Potter… that this is _all_ your doing. Little Ginny _cares_ for you _so_ much. Her fear of losing you and her fear of not being good enough for the 'Good, Great, Harriet Potter' made it so _very_ easy for me to peel away at the layers of her soul. Ohhh… How I wish you could taste her fears, Potter. They are most heavenly."

Ginny winced and took a deep breath. "Yes... She is most spirited today. She rages in my head; such a wild and innocent soul. You know what, Potter? I'm rather glad you're here. I'm glad she can see you like this. It is making her anguish all the sweeter."

_Help us. Please God. Help us. Anyone. Dumbledore. Fawkes. Ron. Merlin. Flamel. Mum. Dad. Anyone._

Ginny lay down next to her and pulled Harry into her arms… spooning behind her and turning her body. Harry was rolled onto her side and she glimpsed the writing on the wall. Beneath the original message were new large red letters.

**NO ONE IS SAFE. HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER. COME AND GET HER IF YOU DARE.**

_Why are you doing this? Just kill me. Let her go. Please! Tom… Lord Voldemort… please let her go!_

Ginny's fingers ran small circles around her belly-button. "Patience is a most valuable virtue. It's true, I itch to strangle you with this girl's hands… but your death is not my ultimate goal. _No_, I need you alive. Soon, so soon, Potter, the girl will be dead… and I… Lord Voldemort… will live. _Then_ you will die. I may even send for you. Rest assured, girl… You will all die by my-"

**BOOM**

Harry was blinded by a massive column of multicolored flame. A familiar wonderful song echoed throughout the corridor. Fawkes' uplifting trills soothed her ravished heart and gave her strength that she hadn't known she had.

Her toe twitched.

Her finger twitched.

Her foot twitched.

And suddenly, she was free.

_Sorry, Gin. _She elbowed Ginny in the stomach as hard as she could, scrambled to get up, and then dove for her wand, shouting, "FAWKES! GET DUMBLEDORE!"

**BOOM**

Ginny screamed in rage and a red curse soared over Harry's shoulder. Harry rolled, turned, leveled her wand at her best friend, and shouted, "_EXPELLIARMUS!_"

At the same exact moment, Ginny cried, _"CRUCIO!"_

The thick red beams of light collided in midair and suddenly, Harry's wand was vibrating as though an electric charge was surging through it. Her hand seized up. She couldn't have released the wand even if she wanted to.

Harry gasped.

A bright narrow beam of light was now connecting the wands; not a beam of red light, but of a deep beautiful burning gold. The color was familiar… but at the moment… she couldn't place it. Her gaze followed the illuminated string to Ginny's wand, which was also vibrating and shaking wildly. The redhead's eyes were wide with shock. Tom obviously had no idea what was happening.

Nothing could have prepared her for what happened next. The wands hummed with vibrating bursts of magic and Harry's feet, as well as Ginny's, _lifted_ from the ground. They floated in the air five feet above the stone floor.

There was a massive boom as Fawkes reappeared with Dumbledore, who instantly drew his wand, pointing it at Ginny. His face was contorted in rage and Harry could feel the deep heavy pulses of his wavelike power blowing across them.

"NO!" screamed Harry in misery, knowing what was about to happen. "DON'T HURT HER!"

The Headmaster seemed to realize what he was doing seconds too late as a bright white bolt of lightning sizzled down the hallway towards Ginny's back.

But… the spell didn't hit.

The golden thread had splintered into thousands of off-shooting strings, crisscrossing all around them at a mind-boggling speed to form a massive, floating, golden sphere. The white lightning crackled against the sphere of light and dissipated.

Suddenly they were moving again. The floating sphere crashed through a window and they flew out into the night sky. Rising higher and higher, they spun through the chilly air, finally alighting upon the observation deck of the Astronomy Tower.

Ginny was trying frantically to break the connection.

Harry's gut instinct was screaming at her to stop the redhead from doing so. She gripped her wand with both hands to prevent the beam from being pulled away from her

The scent hit her senses like a slap. She could smell strawberries. She breathed it in. She could taste strawberries on her tongue. Somewhere deep down… Harry knew it was Ginny, _her Ginny_, cheering her on.

The beam suddenly changed, twisting violently in the air. A large magnificent golden circle of light formed at its middle, illuminating the dark of night as if it was day. Slowly, the circle began to rotate. The beams started to slide and swirl around the circle. In mere moments, a huge double-spiral was growing between the two wands.

Now she knew why the golden hue was familiar.

The mustard trails, the light on her arm, the constellation in the sky...

It was the rune… and it was slowly pulling the wands together.

The strawberries…

The strawberries were everywhere; on her skin, in her mind, in her eyes, on her tongue and in her ears. The strawberries knew what to do; it was if Ginny was whispering softly to her. '_Let the wands touch, Harry.'_

"GINNY!" Harry cried out. "I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE SOMEWHERE! FIGHT HIM! LET… LET THE WANDS TOUCH!"

Ginny's face went slack for a split second... but then she snarled at Harry and gave a vicious wrench.

Harry wasn't strong enough to hold on.

The connection snapped…

And the world exploded in golden light.

Harry was blown backward faster than her Nimbus could carry her. She sailed off the edge of the Astronomy Tower.

Down… down… down she fell.

Harry closed her eyes in defeat.

_Oh... __well__. Right then. I'm sorry, Gin... I'll always love y-_

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**Bwuahahaha.**

**REVIEW!**

**NEW ART**

**Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page. Contains some NSFW content.**

I'm really proud of this chapter. Little bit of Light. Little bit of Dark.

I hope you guys liked it, because I liked writing it.

the 'sirius was a ladies man' persona is actually purely a creation of fanon. it's used so often and is so very very cliche that it's been established as a part of his character. nowhere in the books is it ever mentioned. I try to not stray into too many of the exhausted cliches. some are necessary for the direction of the story... (such as gellert loved albus back)... but most are not.

two more chapters till poa i think.


	16. Chapter 14: To the Edge and Back

**SORRY ABOUT THE LONG UPDATE. LIFE DID NOT ALLOW A CHANCE FOR ME TO WRITE.**

So I went back and tweaked the 'one secret' scene. It's a bit more emotional, loving, and in character now. I think there were about 300 of you that got the original version on the very first day. Not really important, but still.

The story got over **600** visitors to the last chapter on the first day it was up so I know there are at least that many of you! I feel grossly popular. : )

Thanks for reading and reviewing! In the few months I've been writing this, I feel that my writing style has improved dramatically and a lot of that improvement is due to the actual critique I get. So I'd like to send out some **extra extra special** 'thank yous' to:

Lordsesshomuru2, JaeBard, Koriander-Ger, keeperoliver, uo-chou, nothing but the tru7h, regdc, bentonator (my 'passive voice' savior), Osma77 (beta), psi (who I think is lordsesshomuru2 with a name change), doomkitteh, baby-summer-gurl (beta), benperez (with his many many questions that I'm always tempted to answer but can't), hushpuppy (who I enjoy arguing with), krnxplaya, hga, hatecrew, bob3rt (my almost beta- three is too many :P), filledcriture, chipmouskin, the ever awesome wordhammer, ionic wake, and infinitedragon (I thought it was kippurs!)

**To everyone else that took a moment of their time to review… thanks for the really positive feedback!**

I'm going to take a quick second to spiel about love. I believe in magical fairy tale endings… but not magical beginnings or middles. _Real_ love takes time, friendship, shared experiences, the ability to accept faults, and absolute trust. The 'eyes meet across the room' idea of being in love is ridiculous. Love can stem from attraction… but it's not what holds it together. Harry and Ginny's romantic relationship will take time to develop; it will take mistakes; it will take hurt; it will take the building of a bond that is completely unbreakable. I realize a lot of you are fanboys that don't want to wade through obscene amounts of fluffery. But fluff-wade you must because I'm a sap and I enjoy writing it just as much as I enjoy writing the sex and the dark bits and the action.

Oh and… for this chapter… put on your imagination boots! ALLONS-Y!

**Chapter 14: To the Edge and Back**

_Days of wine and roses laugh and run away, like a child at play._

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She didn't want to turn around. She knew that if she turned around and looked back at whatever was behind her, she would have to leave this magnificent place. And so… Harry kept her eyes forward; fixed upon the vast expanse of glittering water.

There was something soothing about the way the crystalline pink waves crashed across the infinite white shore; about how they carried with them the soft whispers of the impossible ocean. They reached, rolled, and rescinded with monotony, their purple crests always breaking in exactly the same spot.

With her knees pulled up to her chest and her toes buried in the warm sand, Harry sighed happily from the dune upon which she sat. The sun, the moon, and the stars were shining down upon her pleasantly, tingeing her skin to the slightest shade of bronze; the breeze skimming across the beach blowing away the excess unwanted heat.

She trailed a finger through the pearly white sand, scribbling out squiggly spirals and names she didn't know.

Except for one; she recognized one.

A sweet smelling scent filled the air and an excited high pitched voice cried out her name… or at least tried to. "HAWWY!"

Harry turned her head into the cool westerly breeze, careful not to look too far around.

A small charming girl with cherry-red pigtails and a wash of freckles was sprinting down the beach towards Harry's dune. She was wearing a pair of extremely worn-in overalls that flopped over her feet and from the looks of her cherubic face, she couldn't have been more than four years old.

Harry was positive that she had seen this same girl before. She had something to do with a tree flitting with light… but… she couldn't remember clearly. Her memory felt thin; watery.

_I don't know any four year olds, do I? I don't… I don't know anyone. _

The little redhead seemed to have a bit of trouble climbing up the slope of the dune. After sliding back down for the third time, she held out her hands, reaching for Harry with a frustrated look on her face. "_Hawwy_, I want help up!"

As soon as Harry saw those big amber gold-flecked eyes, it was as if a spill-gate had been unlocked in her mind. Memories of the child's eyes flooded past it in a great torrent. Harry remembered the picture on the tree; the red-haired girl had been sound asleep in the crook of her father's arm.

_Ginny. _

Harry held out a hand for her best friend.

Ginny squealed with delight as she flew through the air when Harry hauled her up. As soon as she was back on the ground, the small girl tackled Harry's knees in a tight hug and they both fell over into the sand. Picking at the fabric of Harry's light sleeveless shirt, Ginny sat back and whispered sadly, "Hawwy… stay wiff me, 'kay?"

Smiling widely, Harry propped herself up. She couldn't bring herself to say 'no' to those eyes. Reaching out to cup the little girl's cheek, Harry mumbled softly, "Alright, Gin."

Ginny plopped down into her lap, made herself comfortable in a manner that suggested she owned the spot, and shortly fell fast asleep, leaning into Harry's chest for a pillow. Despite her small size, her heartbeat was so strong and full of life and yet, Harry still felt the need to hold on to her protectively, cradling her as if she would shatter before getting the chance to grow into _her_ Ginny.

Harry didn't know how long they sat like that, huddled together. It could've been seconds… but it felt more like several eons.

Harry listened to the whispers of the ocean to quietly pass the time. She was absolutely fascinated by the stories they would tell her. They spoke of ancient battles and friendships; of pointlessness and excitement; of fear and bravery; of revolution and conformity, of evil and love. They spoke of all the lives in the entirety of creation; of all the lives in all of time. And yet… as soon as they were told, the stories slipped from her mind as the sand below her slipped though her fingers.

However, one particular whisper caught her attention; it stuck with her, refusing to slip away. It was familiar and friendly and warm and loving. It told of the lives of two very familiar people; told her of lives full of mischief, happiness, love, war, and tragedy. It called to her; welcomed her with open arms; urged her to wade forward into the pink waters. Harry was almost positive that she could follow it back home; back to the cottage with the well-worn stone path and the garden full of lilies. It was so tempting to just follow that whisper… but… something held her back.

The small redhead yawned sleepily and shifted in her embrace, clutching at Harry's shirt and rubbing it on her rosy freckled cheek. Harry sighed heavily. She seemed so... peaceful.

_I can't leave Ginny. _

"You don't have to, Harry!" cried a sweet voice joyously.

Harry turned her head to the east, careful not to look too far around.

Another redheaded girl in pigtails was climbing the slope of the dune. She was wearing the same worn-in pair of overalls as the girl in her lap, but on this girl they were much too small. The leg cuffs only reached halfway down the length of her thigh. She was smiling widely at Harry; her grin missing several of its baby teeth.

This girl too had amber eyes.

Harry remembered her; remembered the picture of her on the Christmas tree in which her mischievous face was covered with jam. She had been seven at the time.

This girl too was Ginny.

She sat down next to Harry and kissed her younger counterpart on the head. The smaller girl giggled and covered her head. Her skin began to shimmer and shine magnificently; her red hair exploding into a blazing mass of brilliant fiery light. Slowly, ever so slowly, the small girl sparkled away into nothingness.

Smiling up at her, voice whistling through the gaps in her teeth, the older redhead whispered, "You don't have to. Forwards or backwards… I'll follow you whichever way you decide to go. Just don't try to leave me behind, 'kay?"

Harry nodded rapidly. "I won't, Ginny."

Ginny's face cracked in a wide toothy grin and jumped on Harry's back, demanding in an excited voice, "Piggy-back ride!"

Harry laughed, wrapped her arms around the small girl's legs, stood up, and stepped off the dune. They walked for miles along the beach; Ginny singing nursery rhymes while Harry listened to the whisper. With every step along the sand, the urge to follow it became stronger.

Ginny tightened her arms around Harry's shoulders. "You have to decide soon, Harry… _There once was a wizard who sat on a stump, tra la dee, tra la doo, tra la dee!_"

Harry stopped to stare out at the magnificent ocean. "But… Gin, which way should I go?"

Ginny giggled and shrugged. "Doesn't matter does it? You have people that want you on both sides… _His bum found a rather uncomfortable bump, tra la dee, tra la doo, tra la dee!_"

_Mum and Dad… or Ginny... my Ginny._

The whisper was pulling and tugging at her mind.

But then... she remembered.

_That girl, Ginny, be good to her. She depends on you so much, looking to you for strength when she can't find it within herself._

_Soon, so soon, Potter, the girl will be dead… and I… Lord Voldemort… will live._

Ginny nuzzled her neck. "Decide, Harry. Decide before it's too late."

Biting her lip, Harry made her choice and turned away from the pink sea, finally looking all the way around.

A mass of swirling, spiraling, golden light lay just beyond the dunes. It filled her chest with the most amazing feeling. Gazing into its depths was akin to knowing you were about to come up for air after spending a long period of time under water.

Harry gasped for breath, drowning in the suddenly unbreathable air. Ginny pressed her lips to Harry's ear. "That was the right choice, Harry. Now… run."

She didn't need to be told twice. Digging her toes into the sand, Harry ran and jumped into the light.

A jolt of electricity passed through her body as her mind became perfectly clear; her watery memory was restored to its natural solid state. She remembered the fight; she remembered Hogwarts; she remembered Ron and Hermione. Her entire life crashed back into her brain… although… it felt more to Harry like she had collided head first into a solid wall made of her life.

She landed from her jump in soft, slightly moist, dark brown earth. Gasping and clutching her head, Harry closed her eyes tightly to hopefully slow the violent sensation of regaining the rest of her memories.

"Welcome back," whispered Ginny, squeezing Harry's shoulder's tightly.

_Back?_

Ginny bounced excitedly. "_Ohhhh_… This is nice, isn't it?"

A heavy musky scent assaulted her nostrils.

_Smells a bit like... roses._

Indeed, when Harry was finally able to open her eyes, she found herself standing in the large familiar garden that she had always hoped had been real. It was filled to the brim with tall roses of every color and in its center, toiling away at a small patch of earth, sat another girl with cherry-red hair. Instead of pigtails, her long locks were braided into a plait that hung down over her freckled shoulder. She was wearing the bright yellow sundress that Harry so liked to run her fingers over.

The girl looked up and her frustrated expression melted into a warm smile; her amber eyes blazing with enough emotion to send Harry reeling.

Harry remembered the picture; the yellow sundress had been covered in dirt as the nine year-old proudly held up her first successful harvest of strawberries.

This girl too was Ginny.

The pigtailed redhead on Harry's back slid down to the ground, darted around her, ran, and careened into her older version. Half hidden in the folds of the sundress, the little girl waved at Harry and, just like the Ginny before her, disappeared in shimmering light.

The older Ginny got up and dashed towards Harry; a happy grin plastered across her face. She leapt into her arms, the momentum of the jump causing Harry to spin around twice to keep her balance.

Ginny kissed her soundly on the cheek and whispered breathily, "I knew you'd decide to come back! I just knew it!"

Harry nuzzled the slightly smaller girl's shoulder and asked, "Come back? W-What do you mean?"

Ginny bounced in her arms. "You've been in between for so long. Come and see my strawberries. They'll help you to get back, I think." The smaller girl hopped down, took Harry's hand, and dragged her over to the strawberry patch.

"Wait! Ginny… Get back to where?"

Ginny sighed and pulled her down to kneel in the dirt. "For someone so brilliant you can be a bit thick sometimes. To get back to _me_, Harry. You know this place is all in your head, don't you?"

Harry shrugged and looked around dejectedly at the rose garden. It smelled real. The ground beneath her feet felt real.

Ginny picked a strawberry and leaned into Harry's side.

_Ginny._

She _had_ to be real; her skin was so warm and soft and her breath had been cool on Harry's neck. The breeze blowing through the flowers, tossed her magnificent shiny red hair in a way that couldn't be reproduced by any other hand than by that of the real wild wind.

The redhead giggled and squeezed Harry's hand. "Just because we're in your head doesn't mean this isn't real."

"_Gin_, stop listening to my thoughts," said Harry exasperatedly. "It's bloody confusing."

"I'm a figment of _your_ imagination, Harry," whispered the younger girl with a giggle. "You might as well have been shouting at me."

"Twit," Harry muttered softly, giving her friend a playful shove. "Anyway… I hope you're right. This is so beautiful."

"I'm _always_ right," laughed Ginny supremely. "Now… eat your berry. You need to get going."

Harry plucked her own strawberry and rolled it between her fingers, contemplating its 'realness.' Its seeded skin was rough beneath her fingertips. She could feel the juices beneath the red pulp; could almost taste them through her fingertips. She could see every little bit of that strawberry inside and out; could _feel_ it in its entirety. She knew that it would taste exactly like a strawberry should. It was so real… and yet there was something odd about the little fruit. It was… _too_ perfect. It was everything she imagined a strawberry would be.

The garden around her was the same. Harry could feel the roses. They were perfectly symmetrical; exactly how a rose should be. The dirt beneath her was just the right shade of brown. It was soft and smelled heavily of musky earth. Everything was absolutely flawless.

Everything… _except Ginny_.

The redhead was _more_; she was different. Harry couldn't feel her; didn't intimately know everything about her. It was as if she didn't quite fit into the flawless rose garden in Harry's mind.

"Ginny?" Harry whispered, biting down into the sweet red fruit. She peered curiously at the redhead. "If you're a figment of my imagination… why don't you feel like the strawberry?"

The smaller girl drew back to meet Harry's gaze.

Harry gasped. There were thousands of tiny flecks of golden light in Ginny's bright brown eyes; far more than normal. They swirled together, spiraling and spinning in the twin seas of amber.

Suddenly feeling dizzy, Harry slumped forward into Ginny's arms. The redhead caught her, cradled her, and dragged a thumb down Harry's cheek, brushing the finger softly against her chin. When Ginny spoke, her voice seemed so very far away. "Don't worry about it, Harry."

Harry flinched as a blaze of brilliant light burst forth from the smaller girl. Ginny leaned forward and touched her lips softly to Harry's temple, causing little tingles to explode all over Harry's skin.

Harry reached out a hand to touch her… but she couldn't find the girl's body in the mass of sparkling luminescence. With a smile crinkling across her freckled face, Ginny slowly shimmered away into the breeze.

The world began to violently spin in a dizzy haze. Harry swayed on the spot and, unable to keep her balance, fell flat on her face. An electric jolt shot through her body as she tumbled unceremoniously to the ground. She curled up and closed her eyes, hoping against hope that the sickening spinning would cease.

When the dizzying sensation finally passed, she rolled over in what felt like a lush swath of grass and sat up slowly, shading her eyes from the bright golden sunset that was dipping below the horizon. Harry had the distinct impression that she was no longer at the rose garden; no longer beside Ginny's strawberry patch. When her vision cleared of purple sunspots, she was finally able to fully take in her surroundings.

Harry was sitting right in the middle of the Quidditch pitch.

_What the-?_

She stared up at the faraway Astronomy Tower in confusion. There was no way that she could have been tossed all the way to the pitch, despite the size of the tumultuous explosion that had knocked her off the edge. She should have crashed through the greenhouse roofs or landed in the lake.

Brushing herself off, Harry stood… and almost immediately fell over again. There was something terribly awkward with how her body was moving; something she wasn't used to at all. Her center of gravity had completely shifted. Harry looked down at her body… and gasped.

She was… _big. _

Her legs were longer and her shoulders were at least a foot higher from the ground than they had been just seconds ago. And… and…

_Oh Merlin!_

Harry squeezed her backside muscles and felt her jeans slide along with her skin._ I've got an arse! And… _She ran a hand down and across her stomach._ And hips! And…_ Harry prodded one of her breasts in amazement. _I've got proper bubbies!_

Yet, as she curiously poked away at her herself, her elation at having adult body proportions slowly died. What Ginny had mentioned when she had arrived at the garden flooded through her mind. _'You've been in between for so long, Harry.'_

_In between… no…_

Horrible realization flooded through her. She had been at the beach; the impossible beach that lay in wait between life and the cottage; the beautiful beach that should have sent her on her way… but didn't.

Harry's heart sank as she realized what the changes to her body meant. She was old. If she really was back at Hogwarts then she had been in between for-

"Oi, Potter!"

Harry let out a shaky breath that she hadn't known she had been holding. The sultry drawl that had interrupted her thoughts caused a shiver to shoot up and down her spine. For some reason, her mind went a bit fuzzy and a searing longing replaced all intelligent thought in her head.

Harry turned around slowly, her body numb with a strange sense of anticipation.

When she saw the owner of the voice, her jaw went slack. At the back of her mind, a strong barrier that had long been shut tight collapsed with a crash. A thousand feelings she had never experienced before rushed over its broken threshold and Harry's heart began to pound a million miles a minute.

Standing not ten feet away, leaning on the handle of a polished Nimbus Two Thousand, was the most beautiful woman Harry had ever seen. She wasn't really a flawless epitome of beauty like Madame Dupont… but she radiated a certain air of fluid grace and appealing confidence that screamed out, 'I'm bloody gorgeous and don't you forget it!'

They were roughly the same hight; she was perhaps taller than Harry by a few millimeters. Her long cherry-red hair was whipping ethereally around her freckled face in a wind that Harry herself could barely register. A delicate hand was resting on her shapely hourglass hips; hips that were thrust outward in a way that made her flat stomach muscles casually flex and stretch. She was wearing a tiny Harpies' training jersey that just barely covered her pert breasts while the creamy skin of her legs was almost entirely exposed by a pair of mind-numbingly short, skin-hugging, exercise cutoffs. The woman's full pink lips were stretched in a knowing smirk and her light red eyebrows were raised in questioning amusement. Her kind face was so familiar. Harry had seen it somewhere before… but she couldn't place where.

And her eyes… _oh Gods… her eyes._

They were the most brilliant shade of amber brown, burnished with streaks of gold that were shining brightly from the light of the magnificent sunset. Harry's breath came to her in short, nervous, heaving gasps. A burning sensation of warmth congregated in the pit of her stomach and the small of her back. She shifted from foot to foot as her body reacted so _very_ positively to the blazing gaze of this strange, yet achingly familiar young woman.

Harry was completely unfamiliar with the sensations the beauty standing in front of her brought… but she didn't reject them. They seemed so natural; so extremely_... right._

The searing longing flared to an almost painful point and Harry realized right then and there that she… _wanted her_; wanted her more than she had wanted anything in her entire life; wanted to _own_ her; wanted to have this woman be only hers. Harry wanted to touch her; to feel that creamy freckled skin beneath her hands; to taste her full shining lips; to hear her loudly moan out 'Harry' in violent ecstasy, looking just like the women in the dirty magazine that Ron had nicked from a fifth year and shown to her for a laugh.

The redhead laughed and shifted her weight off of the broom. As she placed it down upon the soft grass, Harry saw a flash of sparkling silver slide down her left forearm.

On her wrist, a small metal snitch charm was dangling from an intricately spun copper wire bracelet. It was straining against its metal clasp, pointing directly towards Harry.

Surely this wasn't the real world… for if it had been… Harry would have had a heart attack.

This woman, just like the three redheads before her, was Ginny. Although… she wasn't Harry's Ginny, with a thin pale frame and happy gleam in her eye. No… this Ginny was mature and serious. Her chin fell in a soft curve. Her cheekbones were high and pronounced. Her body was toned and curvy. The look in her eyes was sharp, intelligent, and passionate. This Ginny… well, there was no other word for it… this Ginny was _sexy_.

Ginny straightened up, grinning in satisfaction. She winked and gave Harry the familiar trademark blazing look.

Harry's gasped as she flashed back to two beautiful young women standing before her in the Mirror of Erised, one leaning into the arm of a tall redheaded man with shaggy red hair and sky blue eyes while the other had her arms tightly wrapped around the waist of the first girl.

This redhead was identical to 'mirror Ginny,' and Harry… well, she assumed that she herself was identical to 'mirror Harry.'

_What I desire most..._

"You know, only _you_ would imagine me in tiny slips of Quidditch gear over a choice of say… lingerie," Ginny said huskily. She slowly stalked towards Harry with a hungry look plastered across her face. Her hips swayed tantalizingly with every step forward. Completely unable to control herself, Harry let her eyes drift downwards to rest upon the shifting 'Y' between Ginny's legs formed by the tight pair of cotton shorts.

When Ginny reached her, she lifted Harry's chin with a slim finger, forcing her gaze back to her amber eyes. Ginny pressed her body up against Harry, leaned forward until her lips were just millimeters away from Harry's mouth, and mumbled softly, "You're feeling a bit naughty, aren't you, baby?"

Ginny slid her hand down Harry's skin to rest between her breasts, leaving a trail of delectable tingling warmth in its wake. Harry closed her eyes and wrapped her arms behind Ginny's neck. She was almost hanging from the freckled shoulders; her body weak with want.

Ginny rubbed the tip of her nose on Harry's and said in a whisper, "Luckily… so am I."

A whimper escaped Harry's throat, but before she could say a word, Ginny crushed their lips together.

The world around them stilled. Her mind went utterly and blissfully blank. Time itself ground to a halt as every nerve in her body screamed in a standing ovation. A long-smoldering ember in her heart sparked and crackled to life, bursting forth into a hot licking flame. In the heat of the fire, the painful attraction Harry felt for this woman and the intense devotion and friendship Harry felt for her Ginny melted together into a raw seething mass of passion; into the one thing she had quietly been craving since she had first read the tale of _The Little Glass Slipper_ in Primary school.

In slow motion, as if she were floating, Harry felt herself being lowered backwards into the grass.

Ginny's lips tasted faintly of strawberries. They were soft and supple … but at the same time, were fierce and demanding. Harry had absolutely no idea how to properly kiss and yet, Ginny's lips fit with her own perfectly, dancing in a natural harmonious tandem. The absolute rightness of the fit overwhelmed her. She couldn't handle this; couldn't handle the intensity of the electricity that was rushing over her skin; couldn't handle the love and passion that was radiating from Ginny like heat from the sun. Harry sobbed lightly against the beautiful woman's mouth.

As if in response to her sudden distress, Ginny's small tongue darted against Harry's upper lip, begging for entrance. Unlike with Luna, Harry readily parted her lips without a second thought; without so much as the tiniest inkling that this was somehow wrong. Nothing wrong could ever feel this right. She tangled her hands tightly into Ginny's thick sweet-smelling hair, moaning in blissful welcome as the redhead's tongue slid tenderly into her mouth. Harry tentatively met it with her own and the light touch caused the electric tingles pulsing through her body to intensify tenfold, sending her reeling.

_Oh… Gin… I can't… I can't take this!_

Harry felt Ginny chuckle through their kiss. Her cool hands encircled Harry's waist, one slipping inside her shirt to trail lazily up her backbone, the other dipping into the back of her jeans to squeeze her arse.

Harry squealed and threw back her head in pleasure, breaking their kiss.

"Just enjoy it, Har. We don't have much time. You need to go back soon." Ginny's mouth lazily fell to the spot where Harry's neck met her shoulders and the redhead began to lightly suck at her skin.

Harry groaned in absolute ecstasy, the words 'go back' echoing about in her head.

_I'm not back? This isn't…_

Ginny laughed and she lightly bit at Harry's collar bone before nipping her way back up to her mouth. "Yes, baby," she drawled, placing light kisses along the breadth of Harry's jaw. "On a regular basis, I appear out of thin air nearly completely starkers with the ability to read your thoughts. Don't be thick, love. We're still in your head. I just wanted this to happen before you… before you have to…" She trailed off and wiggled her fingers against Harry's arse.

"B-Before I… what?" gasped Harry, clutching tightly at Ginny's back for support as the redhead's right hand dipped ever lower into the waistline of Harry's jeans.

Instead of supplying an answer, Ginny licked Harry's earlobe, causing her back to arch upwards. Her breasts pressed snuggly into Ginny's larger pair. The redhead groaned and then giggled seductively. "You know, I'm still wondering, Har… why not have us completely starkers already? It would have saved me the trouble of getting all these buggering clothes off of you."

"S-Sorry," whispered Harry, unable to control the hitch in her voice when Ginny took her earlobe into her mouth. "I've always liked these Harpies jerseys."

"I wonder why?" Ginny asked with a soft laugh.

"Shut it," moaned Harry. Ginny's hand was so close. Just an inch more.

But Ginny suddenly withdrew her hands and sat back, her firm bum pushing down wonderfully against Harry's inner thighs. She was staring down at her fingers in amazement. "You dripped on me."

"Does that," Harry said, marveling briefly at the way the sun framed Ginny's silhouette, causing her beauty to become almost ethereal.

"You think _I'm _the beautiful one?" asked Ginny with a laugh. "You're so bloody gorgeous, baby. Merlin, just looking at you… it makes my chest ache." She trailed her fingers along the sides of Harry's body. The way the redhead was eying her was almost predatory. She bent down once more to capture Harry's lips in a kiss. It was softer this time; less frantic; just a tender caress that drove Harry to new limits of arousal. Ginny pulled away and roughly nuzzled Harry's cheek, pushing and biting at her jaw line. With a moan, Ginny ground her body down into Harry's and mumbled, "I love you so much."

Harry didn't need to be told. She could _feel_ it; could feel Ginny's need in every touch… and it… it was _tearing_ at her soul. Her brain couldn't process these feelings. Even after a year of being told she was wanted, after a hundred nights spent in Ginny's arms, eleven years of being slapped away from any real physical expression of love ate away at her heart.

"No!" cried Ginny in anguish, grabbing the back of Harry's head and smashing their lips together.

Harry couldn't hold it in. She sobbed again into the rough kiss that made her whole body pound with every beat of her pulse.

"Don't you even dare go there," Ginny whispered frantically against her lips. "Forget about them! I know you love me, Har! I know you need me!"

Vision blurred from her tears, Harry nodded frantically; her hands fully ensconced in the redhead's soft locks.

Ginny lightly bit down on Harry's lower lip. "I know you want this, Harry. Just… just say it. Tell me you want me to make love to you."

Harry tried to speak, her mouth opening and closing listlessly, but no words came to her.

Ginny wiped the water from Harry's eyes and emeralds met ambers in an unbreakable beam that allowed Harry to convey everything she needed to say with a mere glance. Her feelings were organized, clear, and written in bold print from one of Hermione's thickest quills. There was no hesitation; no inhibition stopping her.

_I… I love you, Gin. Please._

Ginny moaned in relief and reached down. With both hands, she gripped the lower hem of her Harpies' jersey and pulled it up over her head.

Harry's shaky breath hitched in her throat as Ginny's bosom sprang free. She didn't know why she reacted so violently to the sight. They were just breasts… albeit being full, delicately pointed, covered with a beautiful spattering of freckles, and framed by a curtain of silky red hair. Harry's tongue darted out to moisten her suddenly dry lips.

Ginny dragged Harry's wrists out from her hair and entwined their fingers. Their charms clinked together as she forced Harry's arms to the grass behind her head and held them in place. The redhead's breasts swung tantalizingly above Harry's face and without really knowing what to do, Harry arched her neck and took one of the rosy nipples into her mouth. Ginny's body went rigid and her thighs tightened around Harry's waist. "Oh fuck… that's… wonderful," Ginny panted, her eyes hooded and slightly glazed. "Can you… can you use your tongue?"

Harry moaned into her sweet skin and rolled her tongue slowly over the hardened bud as if she was still kissing Ginny's lips. The intensity of the redhead's panting doubled. When the girl above her started mewling Harry's name, Harry switched to the other breast, lavishing it with the same kisses and licks.

Ginny shuddered violently and slid her hands down the length of Harry's arms to the neckline of her green tank. She gripped it and pulled roughly in each direction. The thin cloth split down the middle.

Harry giggled and Ginny leaned forward to whisper against her ear, "If you had been wearing a bra I would have died." She trailed her tongue down Harry's neck… but before her mouth reached the spot where Harry wanted it go, Ginny, quite suddenly, sat up.

A brilliant golden light was emanating from the redhead's body.

"Bollocks," moaned Ginny disappointedly, her voice echoing strangely as if she was shouting from the stands. "I told you we didn't have the time for undressing! You're too close to the edge."

Harry's heart wrenched painfully. "Don't go," she pleaded. "Gin, please stay with me."

"I can't, baby. You're waking up." With a smile that was at the same time both heart-breaking and heart-warming, Ginny leaned down to kiss Harry once more.

Harry gasped as Ginny's full, yet semi-solid lips met her own. It felt like cool liquid electricity and the lingering touch of her tongue caused strawberries to explode across Harry's taste-buds in brilliant vibrant Technicolor.

"Ginny," Harry whispered when the sparkling woman pulled away. "This is _cruel!_" Turning her head, she closed her eyes, not wanting to see the woman she loved slip into nothingness.

Ginny caressed Harry's cheek with the back of her hand. "I know… but maybe after you get back, and after you beat the snot out of Riddle, and after you get over my charming brother, and after we both finally stop being thickheads... well, maybe this will finally happen, yeah?"

Harry's eyes flew open and she sat up abruptly, the question exploding frantically from her lips. "Are you… are you saying I won't remember this? Ginny… _no_… I have to remember!"

Ginny stared down at the grass of the pitch unable to meet Harry's eyes.

"NO!" screamed Harry in dismay. She tried to grab Ginny's shoulders; tried to latch on to the fading shimmering mirage that was the love of her life… but her hands passed right through the woman's beautiful body.

Ginny let out a single soft sob and whispered with dry amusement, "Harriet Lily Potter… Did you know you're the only thing on this earth that I can ever seem to cry over? I'm almost positive it's because… well, because I'm arse-over-elbow, I expect. So… even though you won't remember this… just… don't you _dare_ forget that I love you, alright? One day… one day we're going to have our happy ending, Har."

A golden tear splashed down onto Harry's bare left breast, shattering into a million tiny specks of light.

"_Ginny_," Harry mumbled in a small voice. "Don't… don't go."

With a gust of wind that blew over Harry's lips in a breezy kiss, Ginny disappeared.

Harry tried desperately to clear her mind, refusing to dissolve into a teary pile of wallowing misery. She fell back into the grass, glaring fiercely at the swirling golden sun.

The swirling… spiraling… golden sun.

Harry closed her eyes, feeling slightly dizzy. She wanted Ginny back. She wanted to taste her lips again; wanted to touch every inch of her skin. Harry wanted her… because she was in love with her.

_I'm not going to bloody forget! I'm going to remember. I'm always going to remember. I'm going to get back, save her from Tom, and we'll fuck each other silly. We'll… we'll get married and-_

A jolt of electricity, a loud whistle, and the grind of rolling metal interrupted her thoughts.

The sounds of a bustling crowd assaulted her ears with ferocity. Shouts, laughter, screams of joy, muttered conversations, and tearful goodbyes flooded into her brain all at once. And yet… even above the cacophony of noise, she could quite clearly hear a slow steady heartbeat that was not her own.

"Harry," whispered a familiar lilting voice from inches above her face. "You're almost there."

A hand lightly pulled Harry's bangs away from her face.

She took a deep breath, inhaling a heady scent of strawberries mixed with cinnamon, and opened her eyes.

The first thing Harry saw was a pair of stocking covered knees upon which her head was resting. The next was the sight of a woman berating her teenage daughter for losing her train ticket. The young blonde girl made the overly obvious gesture of turning up the volume on her portable Walkman and stomped away.

Harry closed her eyes again and nuzzled the lap she was using as pillow. She had watched that same blonde girl walk away from her mother every night for year. She didn't need to turn over or look up to know whose stocking covered legs these were. This was _her_ Ginny; the Ginny whose kind heart-shaped face had exactly two hundred forty-nine freckles; the Ginny whose red hair was looped together twenty-seven times in a long plait; the Ginny wearing a worn blue jumper that was frayed in six places on the hem and a hand-knitted black beret which was missing two of the four buttons at the top.

"Can we go back to the pitch?" Harry asked softly, pulling absentmindedly at the seam of Ginny's pleated black skirt.

Ginny sighed and ran her thumb over Harry's cheek. "No. That would be a bit like walking down one of those eckelators while it's moving upwards. You'd never get anywhere."

"Escalators," corrected Harry with a small smile.

"Yeah," muttered Ginny, with another caress of Harry's cheek. "Them."

Harry grinned at the loving touch and sat up.

_This is… This is still Ginny. That Ginny._

Harry happily clambered onto Ginny's lap, albeit rather unhappily noticing that both of their bodies were fully clothed and had regressed back to that of their respective ages. Harry slid her hands under Ginny's skirt and up her thin thighs, leaning forward to capture the freckled girl's lips in a kiss… but the redhead turned her head away, placing a solitary finger on Harry's mouth to hold her back.

"Don't," Ginny whispered in a pained voice. "That's not us yet. It won't feel the same."

"So what?" growled Harry huskily, taking the finger into her mouth to lightly suck on the delicate digit.

However… from the terribly awkward feeling that overwhelmed her due to the simple erotic act, Harry knew that Ginny was right. The idea of shagging the girl wasn't anywhere near as appealing as it had been moments ago. The passion and lust that had burst forth from Harry's heart in a searing flame when they were at the pitch was once again only a flickering ember. Harry tried to spark it; tried to picture herself making love to that beautiful woman in the hopes that her feelings would flood back… but it was all for naught. All she could manage was that same sense of mild enjoyment she had felt during her kiss with Luna; the sense of excitement from having another pair of lips on her own. It would be nice… but it… it wouldn't…

_No…_

Tears welled in her eyes and she let her forehead fall to Ginny's shoulder. "I want it back," Harry pleaded, chastely kissing her best friend's freckled neck. "Give it back to me, Gin! Make us… Make us fall in love again. Please!"

"I can't, Harry!" moaned Ginny in a sorrowful whisper, squeezing her tightly.

Feeling wronged and robbed, Harry pulled back to glare at her. "W-Why the bloody hell not?" she shouted through an angry sob.

Ginny's eyebrows furrowed and she met Harry's glare full on, amber eyes flashing with her Weasley temper. "Because I'm a _bloody _figment of your imagination, that's why!"

"That's a load of fucking bollocks!" cried Harry, her high voice squeaking in rage as she shook the redhead's shoulders. "I know you're not! You're… I don't know… but you _feel _different! What the hell are you, Ginny?"

"Like I said before," replied Ginny mulishly, folding her arms and looking away from Harry, breaking their heated gaze. "Don't worry about it."

Harry's nostrils flared as indignant anger coursed through her. Without thinking, she smashed her lips into Ginny's, desperately searching for some remnant of the intense love that had been stolen from her. But… to her dismay… there was no electrical surge of pleasure that flooded though her body; no wonderful taste of strawberry that set her skin ablaze; just a sense of pure undiluted frustration.

Ginny flailed under the forceful kiss and cried out against Harry's mouth. "HARHUH!" She pressed against Harry's chest, pulled her lips away roughly, and yelled angrily, "Stop it!"

Ginny gave Harry a strong shove and she fell backwards off the girl's lap, landing hard on the concrete floor. The pain pulled the anger from Harry's body like a vacuum cleaner sucking away dirt, only leaving behind large chunks of misery and a deep sense of loss.

Harry curled up and sobbed heavily into her knees, knowing in her heart that the beautiful woman wasn't coming back to be with her. She wanted to be kissed like a princess again; wanted to be touched like a goddess; wanted to be loved like a woman.

Small arms encircled her and pulled her into a comforting embrace.

"I _do _love you," Ginny whispered in her ear. "More than anything… more than anyone. But this bit of me doesn't feel _that_ way about you, Harry… and I doubt that this version of you feels that way about me either. They're not us. Not yet. If I could give that passion back to you I would."

"But… but we're the s-same people. W-Why c-can't-"

"No, we aren't," Ginny interrupted softly. "I'm me… and she was me… but we aren't each other… if that makes sense.

Clutching Ginny's jumper, Harry laughed weakly though her sobs. "I-It doesn't."

"Yeah," mumbled Ginny, brushing Harry's wild and uncontrollable bangs back behind her ear. "I know."

Wiping her eyes, Harry slowly pushed herself up and cuddled into Ginny's side. "I want that feeling again, Gin."

Ginny nodded against Harry's hair. "You'll get it someday, I promise. Although I… It might not be with me."

"It will be," muttered Harry with a burning sense of conviction. She pulled back and rubbed her nose softly on Ginny's cheek. "It has to be!"

Ginny was quiet for a long time as Harry drew small circles on her blue jumper… but then, out of nowhere, she turned, tilted Harry's head up with her thumb, and whispered, "I hope you're right, Harry."

Her breath hitched as the redhead leaned down… and their lips touched once more.

It wasn't sexy. It wasn't passionate. It wasn't arousing. It was her best friend telling Harry that she loved her; telling her that the love she felt hadn't faded, even when there was no attraction to keep it together; telling her that that love was still there, but merely in another form. Ginny's mildly dry lips massaged Harry's in gentle undulations and despite the lack of any romantic feeling, Harry still moaned into the redhead's mouth, enjoying the feel of the small lips; enjoying the touch of the one person she cared for most.

During their kiss, Harry realized that she didn't care that it didn't feel as it had on the pitch; didn't care that Ginny wasn't the same sexy woman. Ginny would always be _her Ginny_, in whatever shape or form she came in.

Within this place, wherever it was, Harry could feel the emotions and love pouring off of Ginny in waves. They were like a drug she'd never known she had needed. She craved more; wanted to feel more; needed more else she'd lose her mind.

Harry lay back onto the cold ground and locked eyes with her best friend. Ever so slowly, she removed the green tank that covered her chest, entirely glad that all the people around them were just part of her imagination and didn't give her half-nude self a second glance.

"Do you really want this, Harry?" Ginny asked in a soft voice, giving Harry that blazing look that always seemed to make her heart flutter. "I need to do it… but it… it won't be-"

Harry didn't let her finish. She grabbed Ginny's hand and placed it on her bare breast bud. She let the little part of her at the back of her head that enjoyed kissing Luna run rampant. "I want it."

Ginny nodded and leaned down. She licked tentatively at one of the bumps, while kneading the other a bit clumsily with her palm.

It didn't really feel _great_ per say… but Harry knew how it was _supposed_ to feel. She knew how her adult self would feel. Just the idea of being intimate with someone that would one day become the gorgeous woman that she could fall in love with made her spine tingle pleasantly.

"What? So I'm not _gorgeous_ enough to fall in love with yet?" asked Ginny teasingly, giving Harry's miniscule breast a sharp flick with her pointer finger.

"Ouch!" muttered Harry under her breath, the corners of her mouth twitching in amusement. "You're such a bint sometimes."

Ginny kissed the spot that she had flicked. "You love me anyway."

"Yeah," Harry agreed in a breathy moan. "I suppose so." She reached down and dragged the hem of Ginny's jumper up over her head and shoulders. Even though the girl was completely missing her ample bosom, her chest was still spattered with the beautiful array of freckles that always caught Harry's eye when she was undressing. Harry pulled her down for another chaste kiss and the bare skin of their bellies pressed together.

"That tickles," Ginny giggled.

Harry smirked and rolled her stomach muscles.

Ginny squealed and jumped away from her with a wide smile stretched across her face.

Their attempt at intercourse quickly evaporated into a tickle fight… which Ginny of course won, as she always did, when she went for Harry's knees.

After her victory cheer, Ginny pulled Harry into a sitting position between her legs and buried her nose deeply into Harry's hair. Running her fingers in slow circles around Harry's belly-button, Ginny whispered, "Harry, I don't know if I can... you know."

Harry leaned back into Ginny's warm body as she caught her breath, letting her head fall onto the girl's shoulder. "I know. Maybe… maybe someone is telling us that we should just leave it at that then."

Ginny shook her head and mumbled something into the back of Harry's neck. Although she didn't hear them, the three words vibrated up through Harry's skin to her ear.

"I love you too," Harry whispered in reply. "Forever and ever."

Ginny hands slid slowly around Harry's bare waist and deftly snapped open the button of her jeans. "It's just… I have to give you this," she said quietly. Ginny pulled the zip down in an achingly slow manner; eyes still buried into Harry's neck. When it was fully loose, Ginny shimmied the pants down Harry's hips inch by inch until her green knickers were fully exposed. "Harry," Ginny moaned. "You have to help me give you this."

"Ginny," panted Harry, as the redhead trailed her finger's along the edge of the green cotton triangle. "No. I don't want to make love if… if you don't want to. It'll feel-"

Ginny bit down on her neck in reply and Harry gladly stopped her half-hearted protests. "We're not making love, Harry," the redhead whispered into her ear. "We're just… I dunno… casually shagging, yeah? Just help me."

Harry smiled and ran her finger down Ginny's arm, tracing the freckles she wished were on her own body. "Always."

**0000 0000 0000**

**The following scene has been removed in order to maintain a Fiction M rating.**

**The original passage can be found in my DeviantArt Gallery. **

**0000 0000 0000**

Harry only vaguely felt Ginny's arms encircling her as her body shook and her thoughts became muddy… but when her mind finally cleared and her body recovered from the afterglow, she found Ginny's hand and entwined their fingers. Her quill charm whizzed around her wrist and clinked on the small snitch adorning the other girl's arm. "Ginny," she whispered breathlessly, turning in the redhead's arms to look up at her. "Did… did that really just happen?"

Ginny smirked and giggled. "You bet it did." Harry nodded happily against Ginny's bare chest and let her hand once again trail downwards towards her friend's most sensitive spot, but Ginny caught her arm. "There's no time," she whispered sadly.

Harry gazed up at her in confusion. "W-Why?"

Ginny was silent for quite some time before she managed an answer. "I took you to the pitch for a reason, Harry. I needed to give you this before you..." She trailed off looking nervous. "I… I pulled you to the pitch because that's where the bit of me that could really love you was."

"What do you mean where the bit- hrmph."

Ginny had covered Harry's lips with her hand, cutting her off. "Really, Harry, I can't tell you about that. It… It'll make everything worse."

Harry gathered her saliva and sloppily licked the inside of Ginny's hand.

"Eww!" The redhead squealed in disgust, pulling her hand away.

"You can thank your brother for teaching me that one," said Harry with a small smirk. "So… I guess we'll… we'll always have one secret, yeah?"

"You're a silly twat," Ginny mumbled, wiping her hand on the floor and shoving Harry lightly.

Harry shoved back and leaned into the redhead's shoulder. "I'm the good kind of silly twat though, right?"

"Yeah," Ginny replied, casting off her rural Devon accent for a surprisingly accurate imitation of Harry's Londoner's. "I suppose so."

Harry giggled and gave Ginny's bum a good solid pinch.

Ginny squeaked, slapped her hand away, and muttered in her normal voice, "And even if you're the bad kind of silly twat… at least you're _my_ silly twat."

Harry grinned at her best friend, pointedly raising her eyebrow at the slight irony of that statement.

Ginny groaned in exasperation. "You've been spending far too much time with Ron and Seamus, Harry. Anyway, look, I just wanted to give you something really good to… to hold on to before you… before you…"

Harry cocked her head in question as the redhead trailed off yet again. "Gin?" she asked slowly. "Just say it. Before I what?"

Ginny didn't answer. Her creamy slightly pink skin was slowly losing its color. Her amber eyes had gone wide, focusing intently on a spot behind Harry.

There was a loud clang and a drawn out hiss of air that sounded very much like a compartment door on one of the trains sliding open.

One by one, the overhead lights on the Kings Cross archways buzzed and flicked out with a _zap._

Harry watched with dismay as the redhead in front of her began to emit a faint shimmering light; the golden flecks in her frightened amber eyes beginning to swirl and spiral.

Harry turned to see what the girl was looking at, but Ginny caught her chin and roughly pulled her face back toward her. Shaking her head frantically, Ginny whispered in a trembling voice, "Don't look 'round."

The hairs on the back of Harry's neck tingled to life, standing on end. She had never seen Ginny this scared. "Gin, what's wro-"

Ginny once again covered her mouth. "Harry, there's no time, so be quiet and listen. You were hurt… _badly._ You were clinging to the very edge of life while you healed. When you finally crossed the threshold back, you… well… The reason you won't remember any of this is because this… _all of this_… We're not just in your head, Harry." Ginny removed her hand from Harry's mouth and trailed her fingers down to brush lightly across the skin above her heart. "We're deep down," Ginny whispered. "We're so very _very_ deep down; far beneath your subconscious."

Harry covered Ginny's hand with her own. "Beneath my- what?"

Ginny closed her eyes and took a deep steadying breath. "We're in your soul, Harry, and you've been climbing back out. Thoughts and memories… they just don't exist here. You'll remember the beach… but not the garden… or the pitch… or this. You see, we're in between the beach and your subconscious; in between the beach and... and... _the dream._"

Harry tensed, feeling the blood drain away from her face. "T-The dream?" she stuttered, her voice echoing around the deathly silent station.

Ginny didn't meet her eyes as she nodded.

Harry was courageous, a Gryffindor, but there were two things in this world that truly terrified her. The first was Quirrell… and he was dead and gone. The second… well…

She was suddenly completely aware that she and Ginny were the only two people left in the station. All other signs of the bustling station life that she had become so familiar with had ceased to exist. The clerk peddling pasties in his gaudy booth… gone. The family of Swedish tourists that were frantically taking pictures with everyone and everything… gone. The homeless man that walked up and down Platform 6… gone.

"No!" Harry whispered, absolute terror of whatever was behind her flooding through her body. "Ginny, I can't!"

Ginny pulled Harry's body tightly to her chest. "Y-You have to. It's the only way back and there's… there's no turning back anyway. I lead you to the pitch because I wanted to give you something wonderful to hold on to; something to live for. Harry… I… I don't quite know what's going to happen… but I know you. I know every bit of you inside and out. I know what you want." Ginny kissed her forehead. "If you can beat it, we'll… we'll have a chance at that life."

"I… I can't," cried Harry miserably, clutching tightly at Ginny's jumper. She felt like she was six again and Dudley was forcing her to eat a particularly slimy worm, yet in this case, the feeling was a hundred times more intense. "Don't make me! Don't… Don't make me!"

"Harry," Ginny whispered. "Please, Harry. Be brave for me. I need you on the other side. Tom has me and I'm not strong enough to fight him alone."

Harry gazed tearfully up into her beautiful spiraling eyes.

Ginny smiled and softly touched the corners of Harry's mouth with her thumb. "I love you. Just hold on to that, okay? Not the sex but… but… what it meant; how I feel about you. Hold on to that and I… I just know it won't be able to hurt you."

Harry slowly calmed; her fears somewhat set at ease. She leaned up and just barely touched her lips against Ginny's, searching for more reassurance through their half-kiss.

She found it.

Harry let out a shaky breath and asked, "Can you come with me?"

Ginny looked away and another golden tear fell from her eyes.

"Ginny, if you're there I'll-" Harry stopped speaking abruptly and her eyes widened. Something akin to an icy-cold tendril of Devil's Snare was sliding up her leg in a tight grip.

Time slowed as Harry stared up at Ginny's sad sparkling heart-shaped face, realizing what was about to happen.

There was something in her expression; something that made Harry's body tremble once more with terror.

It was tiny… just the tiniest sliver… but it was there.

_Uncertainty. _

Harry's heart dropped out of her chest.

"NO! GINNY! OH GOD!"

With a great wrench, the tendril yanked her away from the girl's shimmering body. Harry shrieked in fear, clawing at the ground with her fingernails as she was pulled backwards. She struggled and screamed and cried out for help…

But her pleas were heard by only her own ears.

Ginny and the warmth of her love… had disappeared.

Harry shrieked in shrill desperation as another tendril wrapped around her shoulders and roughly flipped her over.

The entire station was cloaked in a thick eerie darkness. It was darker than night… but her surroundings were still clearly visible. A single solitary scarlet train sat on the other side of Platform 9, looming monstrously in the gloom. Her eyes followed the length of the tendrils that bound her to their source. There, in the middle of the train's first carriage, was an open compartment door.

Fear overwhelming her courage, Harry scrambled to flee in the opposite direction, for inside that compartment was a wall of solid pitch black; a wall of pitch black… and a large pair of gleaming, menacing, red eyes.

Hundreds of shadowy tentacles shot out of the black depths and coiled around Harry like snakes, strangling her screams and binding her tight. They dragged her quickly across the floor and into the train that literally contained her very worst nightmare.

Harry struggled and just barely managed to free her right arm. She latched on to the doorframe as it slid passed her. Harry tried frantically to flip the hourglass… but when she searched for her core… there was nothing there to flip.

Her quill charm's clasp slammed against the frame as the tentacles gave a vicious yank. There was a sharp sound of clinking metal and Harry watched in horrible slow-motion as the silver trinket fell from her wrist.

She lost her grip.

The compartment door slammed shut with a bang.

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Ginny pounded helplessly against walls of the box that Tom's mind had enclosed her in until her hands were raw and bloody.

She knew it was useless. The walls were miles thick. Miles and miles of solid steel… and yet… she could see everything through them; could see the sweat and tears pouring down Harry's face as she held on to the fiercely vibrating wand in her hand; could see her friend's long wild black bangs whipping about her face in the wind that was blowing over the Astronomy Tower; could see the cute cowlick of Harry's bed-head that refused to budge even in the strong gale; could see the huge rune of golden light twisting and spiraling between them.

Ginny could see it all… yet she could do nothing. She was a mere spectator in this battle of wills; Harry's cheerleader and nothing more.

Sobbing softly and closing her eyes in defeat, Ginny sank down to her knees inside the frigidly cold prison.

"Don't give up, Gin," whispered an echoing voice that tinkled like wind chimes.

Ginny paid the voice no mind, leaning her forehead against the icy wall. There was nothing she could do. Tom was… he was unbreakable.

A calloused hand, a hand that she knew intimately, lightly caressed her cheek.

Ginny opened her eyes.

A vaguely familiar, smiling, absolutely beautiful woman sat next to her in the dark. For some reason, Ginny's heart began to hammer wildly at the sight of her and it wasn't from surprise or fear.

She had long messy black hair that framed her lightly pointed face perfectly and she wore small, round, black glasses that did little to hide her smoldering bedroom eyes from view; eyes that were a hundred different shades of green. Her skin was a smooth alabaster, her small button nose crinkled with her white smile, and she had the fullest pinkest lips Ginny had ever seen… lips that Ginny had a strange urge to reach out and touch.

She was wearing a long, familiar, pearly-white dress that had a strip of black velvet around its middle. Ginny's gaze was drawn like magnets to its contours. The dress was quite obviously hiding a nicely proportioned body, the likes of which Ginny only ever saw in the fashion sections of her mum's Witch Weeklys. Beautiful and bathed in a swath of flowing white, Ginny thought she looked the part of an angel.

"Thanks, love," the woman whispered, tilting her head with a knowing grin. Ginny gasped as she took in the lightning bolt scar that was revealed as the black bangs shifted.

"Harry?" Ginny whispered in disbelief. "How are you-"

"Shhh," hushed the twenty some year-old Harry, trailing her thumb along Ginny's cheek. "It doesn't matter. You need to get up and fight, Gin. If you fight, I might have a chance. No one can fight on two fronts and win. Not even Voldemort."

"But…" Ginny looked out through the walls at the girl holding the wand. She pressed her palm flat against the image of her best friend. "I can't do anything! What can I do?"

When she turned her eyes back to the beautiful woman for an answer, her heart sagged with disappointment.

Harry was gone.

And yet… although she had surely imagined the woman's existence, her words stuck in Ginny's head. She stood and pounded against the wall with renewed vigor, screaming bloody murder at Tom as he tried frantically to make her body break the connections between the wands.

But then…

Ginny watched in horror as Harry stopped fighting for control and closed her eyes, a peaceful expression falling over her face.

"No!" Ginny screamed. "Harry! Don't stop!"

Harry's green orbs flew open. They were burning with such an intense determination that Ginny thought her eyes might have been aflame. It was a sight that Ginny had never witnessed before; a look that made Ginny realize why Harry was either loved or envied by nearly everyone that met her; a look that made Ginny realize why she cared for Harry more than anyone else in the world. Harry was the embodiment of passion; the epitome of goodness. She was righteousness and chivalry; she was hope and light. She was pure and loving despite being hated and despised for nearly the entire duration of her life. Despite Harry's many faults, she was everything that was good in the world.

Harry looked right at Ginny, peering at her intently, as if she could actually see her behind the walls of Tom's mind. "GINNY!" she cried out into the wind. "I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE SOMEWHERE! FIGHT HIM! LET… LET THE WANDS TOUCH!"

_Let the wands touch. _

The words reverberated around the cold cell of Tom's mind and she felt him growl in anger.

Ginny knew in that moment that she had to gain control no matter what the cost; she had to let the wands touch.

Closing her eyes, she went wild. She screamed in rage, hitting the wall so hard that the entirety of the steel box trembled. It shook and groaned and… _stretched._

With a loud CRACK, the wall gave way.

Ginny felt herself fall forward and suddenly… she was back in control of her body. She stared across the golden light of the rune at Harry, her jaw falling slack in awe of her success. Harry was looking back at Ginny with both ferocity and love in her emerald gaze. Ginny lost herself in its intensity. In that short moment… as she watched Harry's eyes burn with two very different flames… she lost her train of thought.

Strong icy fingers wrapped tightly around her throat and pulled; pulled her back through the miles of steel wall, tossing her roughly back into the once again solid box.

Tom snarled and wrenched her wand upward.

The connection snapped.

A massive explosion of heat and golden light rocked the foundations of the Astronomy Tower. She was blown backwards like she had been shot from a cannon. Her feet hit the turreted wall of the platform hard and her body flipped backwards, tumbling down over the edge.

Down they fell… down… down… down…

As Ginny screamed, Tom coolly cast a spell with a quiet hiss that was unmistakably Parseltongue.

The air shifted strangely around Ginny's body as they plummeted. It felt almost like it had solidified and was _slithering_ across her skin. Quite abruptly, they began to slow in their descent, drifting down through the chilly air.

Ginny gasped.

They weren't simply levitating or falling at a reduced speed. They were moving… they were flying! Flying without a broom or some other form of magical transport was _impossible!_ Flesh was one of the three things that absolutely couldn't be enchanted to fly… and yet here she was… flying casually across the night sky.

Tom steered them towards the window that she and Harry had broken when they had unceremoniously crashed through it. Hopefully someone would see them and catch her… but… _no._ Tom would likely just kill them too.

"You're a right foul bastard," she muttered weakly at the walls.

The steel reverberated with his cruel, mocking, high-pitched laugh.

Ginny's watched with apprehension as her feet touched down in the now silent second floor corridor. The hall was completely devoid of life. There wasn't a single Auror, Professor, or Watcher guarding the scene of the crime. Not even a strutting rooster could be spotted.

Tom scanned the floor for his Diary and chuckled pleasantly when he found it by a toppled suit of armor. Dumbledore had obviously left it behind, chasing after them up to the Astronomy Tower…

Up to the… up to the…

Ginny let out a choking gasp from inside the box.

Harry had been standing right at the edge of the tower during the explosion. She would have been tossed over as well… and… with nothing to slow her fall…

Ginny shook her head fiercely, refusing to believe that Harry was gone. She pounded against the wall angrily… tearfully.

She felt Tom frown. Yet another piece of his plan had gone awry. He had needed Harry alive as leverage; the threat of her death forcing Ginny to write in the diary. Also, he had been desperately looking forward to torturing and murdering her with his own corporeal hands.

"No," Ginny growled in fury. "She's alive! Harry's alive… and… and she's going to stop you. She's going to kill you!"

'_Oh?' _Tom giggled madly as he opened the entrance to the chamber and tapped the side of the tunnel with Ginny's wand. The slick slide rumbled and transformed into a dimly lit staircase that wound down and out of sight._ 'I think not, girl. For you see, we're sharing a soul you and I. Until I'm corporeal, the only way to kill me… is to kill you. I don't think dear little Harry could do that to her precious Ginny, do you? Your foolish obsession with each other will be the end of you both.'_

Ginny balled up her bloodied hands into fists and continued to pound against the walls as they descended down the steps into the chamber.

'_Be quiet. Your tittering is becoming most tiresome.'_

Something shadowy stretched out from a dark corner of the box and hit her hard in the face.

The frigid room spun around her and she slowly felt herself losing consciousness.

Tom chuckled. '_Nighty-night.'_

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Pansy slapped his hand away and turned over in bed, facing away from him. "I said don't touch me, Draco."

Scowling, Draco withdrew his arm and lay back into the pillows of his four-poster, biting down on the nasty retort that was itching to leap from his mouth. Pansy was quite clearly upset and he suspected it had everything to do with either him or Harry… perhaps both.

This was quite a problematic situation. He wanted her; wanted to touch her; wanted to taste the salt of her skin. But those urges obviously weren't going to be satisfied while she was like this. He needed to comfort her. Unfortunately, he had absolutely no idea how to go about doing that. Being a shoulder to cry on wasn't exactly included in his etiquette training.

_Perhaps a dash of bluntness?_

Draco folded his arms behind his head, stared up at the ceiling, and said in as soft a voice as he could manage, "Pans, tell me what's wrong."

"Piss off," whispered Pansy bitingly. "And stop telling me what to do. You're always commanding this and that. You're just like your father. It's nauseating."

The corners of his mouth twitched… then he smirked… then he chuckled… then he burst out laughing.

Pansy flipped back over, drew her hand back, and slapped him across the face as hard as she could.

His head reeled… and then, out of nowhere, she was kissing him; kissing him and sobbing into his mouth.

Dazed, his face stinging, Draco kissed her back in confusion.

"I hate her," Pansy whispered against his lips. "I hate her!" She grabbed his shirt collar and shook him roughly. "I hate her and… and… _and you love her!_"

Draco began to protest but Pansy silenced him with another rough kiss. He was just beginning to enjoy himself when she pulled back and slapped him again.

Draco cried out in surprise and pain. He grabbed her wrists as she raised her hand for another hit and flipped her over, rolling on top of her and pinning her arms above her head. "Pansy! What's wrong? Tell me! Please? I want to help you!"

Pansy struggled fiercely, sobbing into his shoulder a steady mix of "Get off!" and "Don't touch me!"

Draco held her tightly, refusing to let go.

Eventually her flailing ceased, her cries of protest dissolved into hiccups, and her loud sobs softened to silent tears.

He released her wrists and trailed his fingers softly down her arm to rest upon her cheek. "Tell me what's wrong."

"She…" Pansy's cold mask fell away and she buried her nose into his shirt. "That cunt went into my head!"

"What do you mean?" Draco pried gently. "Who?"

"_Potter,"_ Pansy whined miserably, shuddering in his arms. "In potions. Oh Merlin, Draco, she… she put… I can't stop thinking about it! I see Brown everywhere. She's… she's looking at me like I'm the one doing it! And it… it feels like I am! Draco, make it stop. Please!"

Draco made a connection and hushed his fiancée. "I had a feeling that Ha-" He caught himself just in time. Using Harry's first name would only upset Pansy even more. "That Potter was a Legillimens. Snape's always jumping in surprise unexpectedly and every time he sends her a death glare afterwards. It doesn't take an Arithmancy Professor to put two and two together."

"Obviously," said Pansy through her tears.

Draco smirked and leaned down to kiss her, but Pansy gasped and pushed him away.

"Don't!" she cried in a pained and panicked whisper. "Just don't. Not… not unless I initiate it."

Draco's smirk faded and he drew away slowly, expecting that he wasn't going to enjoy the answer to his next question. "What… what exactly did she put in your head, Pans? What about Brown?"

Pansy's eyes closed tightly and she covered her face with her hands. "Quirrell… last year… he… Quirrell raped her in the Owlry! I've… I've seen pictures of the act before in a few of the ritual books back at the manor but… I've never seen it like this. Gods above, Draco, it's absolutely terrifying and I can't get it out of my head. I feel like I'm Quirrell and I feel like I'm Brown at the same time. When you touch me… I just… I… Merlin, why am I acting like such a Hufflepuff?"

Draco sat up and tangled his hand into her silky black hair, unable to find suitable words that would bring her any measure of comfort.

"I'll never hurt you," he muttered at last.

Pansy scoffed, wiping her eyes. "You hurt me every day."

Draco frowned, knowing exactly what she meant. He chose to avoid that particular alleyway of conversation. "I won't hurt you like that. Not ever. You have my word. If anyone ever does that to you, Pans, I'll kill them with my bare hands."

"Like a filthy Muggle?" asked Pansy smartly.

Draco frowned and said in a deadly whisper, "Yes. Like the filthiest of Muggles. Whoever did it wouldn't get the dignity of a spell from my wand. No, I'd cut them limb from limb then force-feed them their own entrails."

"That's utterly disgusting, Draco," replied Pansy primly, clambering into his lap. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

Draco ran his hands down to her waist and pulled her tight. "My father knows a Mind Healer quite intimately. We could surely arrange-"

"No," Pansy interrupted, pressing her ample cleavage, covered only by her elegant pink nightgown, into his chest. "No… I just… I want to sleep together from now on."

"Every night?" asked Draco. "We'll surely be caught."

"I don't care," Pansy mumbled. "I love you. I trust you."

Draco raised an eyebrow. Loving him was one thing… but trusting him? He could tell she meant it too… and he didn't know if he could truthfully reciprocate the statement.

"I know it's risky," hissed Pansy angrily. "But… I need someone, Draco." She leaned forward and touched her forehead upon Draco's own. "I swear… I'm going to get Potter back for this."

"No," said Draco abruptly.

Pansy tensed and leaned back. "What do you mean by 'no,' Draco?" she whispered in a dangerously icy tone.

The words spilled from his lips in a torrent. "I… I mean I want you to stop berating her. She only wants you to leave her alone."

In his head, a little miniature sized version of himself that represented his sense of logic and reason was holding its hand over its eyes, marveling at his Gryffindor-like stupidity.

Pansy's face was turning a fierce shade of angry tomato red. "You… you're… you're going to take her side?"

Draco sneered. "I don't take sides."

"You bastard!" Pansy reached back to slap him, but Draco was already up and gripping her wrist in anticipation.

"Now you really _are_ acting like a Hufflepuff," Draco said harshly. "It doesn't suit you. You know as well as I, even if you don't want to admit it, that you brought this on yourself."

"Of course you're going to defend the stupid slag!" spat Pansy in rage. "Little Draco and his beloved toy that got away. Why do people crave what they can't-"

"Shut up, Pansy!" growled Draco. "Just… just shut up and listen to me. I know why you hate her. I'm not a blithering idiot and you don't go to any certain lengths to hide it from me. It's not every day that you have a beautiful girl spitting mad with jealousy over you. I won't lie to you… I even get off on it. Yeah, I had a particularly pleasant wank the other day imagining the two of you were fighting over me in a large tub of pudding. But you need to realize something, Pans. We're talking about Saint Harriet Fucking Potter here."

Pansy scoffed. "So?"

Draco let her wrists go and ran his hands over her shoulders. "So, she _killed_ the Dark Lord with her thumb in her mouth. You've seen her in class. She's absolutely brilliant and easily as powerful as any Professor in the school save the old coot. She's the most renowned witch in the British Isles and she's adored by nearly everyone in the castle. Hell, even Flint has started to respect her. With a mere gesture, her little circle of Weasley toadies would kill for her. I know where that road leads. My father keeps a chart in his study to keep track of Ministry employees that demonstrate similar behavior. I'm certainly not having my wife be the sworn enemy of a future Minister of Magic."

Pansy mouthed something silently, her brow furrowing into an indignant and angry 'V' shape.

Draco didn't need to know what she had said to know why she was upset. He shook her shoulders to get the point of his words across. "It doesn't matter who I love or don't love. It is _not_ in our best interest as future husband and wife for you to be berating Potter at every fucking turn. You're a Malfoy now, Pansy. _A Malfoy. _You're a part of the very same line of Malfoys that walked beside Arthur in his search for the flipping Holy Grail. There is a reason why we've lasted so long. There is a reason why we are the richest and purest lineage in Britain. The good of the family _always_ comes first. You need to start thinking about what's best for you, me, our family, and the family name; you need to start thinking like a proper bloody Slytherin!"

Pansy looked away, a pearl of tears forming at the inner corner of her eye.

"Pans," Draco sighed heavily, slipping an arm down around her trim waist. "Look… at the end of the day… I'll always come back to you. As soon as our wrists are bound, I'll always belong to my wife. And… I really do love you." He tugged her chin back around and lightly kissed her. She moaned and pressed her groin into his lap, burying her hands into his nicely coiffed hair. He softly lowered her backwards to the bed, but when her head hit the sheets, Pansy flailed and cried out.

Draco sat back, hating the unfamiliar look of fear in her eyes.

Pansy inhaled and exhaled heavily. "I flashed back."

Draco frowned. "I wouldn't do that. You know I wouldn't."

Pansy nodded and pulled him back down for a searing kiss that he felt in every part of his body.

"I need a drink," Pansy mumbled against his lips. "A real drink."

"Me too. I'll be right back," Draco whispered, rolling unceremoniously from the bed.

Pansy giggled and pinched at his arse as he left.

Draco rummaged in his trunk for his money chest. From it, he withdrew a sizable pouch of galleons… at least three hundred. He crept quickly across the cold floor to Blaise's bed.

He tugged open the curtains, reaching down to stir his roommate awake…

Draco resisted the urge to scream out loud.

Blaise was on his knees, his hands clutching the headboard, mouth open in a silent 'O' as Terrence Higgs thrust into the tall dark-skinned boy of thirteen. Higgs' hand was pumping up and down Blaise's member at a rapid rate.

Both boys gasped at the sight of him. Higgs popped out of Blaise with what Draco, on any other occasion, would've thought was a highly amusing squelch, and promptly fell out of the bed.

"_Malfoy!" _hissed Blaise in an enraged yet desperate whisper. "What the bloody smegging _fuck _do you think you're doing?"

The brown-haired willowy fourth year gathered his clothes and ran from the dormitory as quickly and as quietly as he could.

"I…" Draco found that at the moment… his brain couldn't form words.

Blaise wrapped the sheet around his waist and stood up from the bed. The tall boy snatched his wand from the bedside table and pushed Draco roughly up against the wall, digging the tip of the wand into Draco's windpipe. He whispered in a panting panicked voice, "Tell a soul and I'll kill you, Malfoy! I'll end your pampered life without a second's hesitation! Do you- Do you understand me?"

Draco nodded, shocked and confused.

"_Say it,"_ Blaise growled under his breath. The wand sparked and Draco's skin burned painfully.

"I… yes! I understand," agreed Draco quietly. "Now let go of me!"

Blaise withdrew his arms, shoving Draco roughly as he did so. "What was so fucking important that you had to open my curtains in the middle of the night?"

Draco tossed Blaise the bag of galleons and said, withholding the usual bite from his voice, "I want to buy that bottle of Firewhiskey in your trunk Zabini. That's about three hundred galleons there, ten times its worth."

Blaise scowled, running his hand through his short kinked hair. "I can't believe you. This couldn't have waited?"

"No," drawled Draco calmly.

Blaise opened his trunk and pulled out the bottle of constantly bubbling amber liquid. He popped the stopper, took a long swig, and handed it to Draco along with the pouch. "Keep the gold," grumbled Blaise. "I'm buying your silence for both myself and Terrence."

Draco locked eyes with him. They weren't friends, not really… but it seemed that at last they had come to an understanding. "Yeah," Draco said quietly. "My lips are sealed, Zabini." He started to turn back to his bed, but Blaise caught his shoulder.

"Malfoy…" Blaise whispered, peering intently at him in the dark. "… Draco… _Please_. If my father finds out… If the ministry were to get wind…"

"I gave you my word, Blaise. Go back to bed. I… erm… apologize for… interrupting."

Blaise nodded. "Thank you. I don't like to be in debt… but considering the scale of the repercussions… it seems like I'll be in yours for a very long time."

Draco returned to Pansy with his wand and two glasses that he chilled with an exhausted mumble of, "_Glacius_."

Pansy was sitting up against the headboard, one sleeve of her nightgown hanging off a pale shoulder. _Merlin, she's sexy. _Her large chest was heaving with barely contained excitement and her pale blue eyes were wide. She must have been watching through the curtains.

Before she opened her mouth, Draco closed the green drapes and whispered to her heatedly, "Pans, my word is your word and your word is my word."

Pansy's excitement slowly died and she nodded tentatively, accepting the glass of Fire-whiskey he offered her. Draco sank back into the pillows and sipped the amber liquid that burned all the way down, yet simultaneously soothed his throat with a pleasant tingle.

"What do you think would happen to Zabini if this got out?" Pansy asked in a small voice, leaning into the crook of his arm.

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "He'd surely be disowned. He'd never be able to get a decent job at the Ministry. Whispers would be everywhere. He'd likely go abroad. The French and Spanish governments are more accepting. I'm not sure what I'd rather be… a poof or a Werewolf.

"I think we've established that you're absolutely not a poof," purred Pansy, running her fingertips delicately across the slight bulge in his pajama bottoms.

He grunted affirmatively, already starting to stand at attention for her fingers.

"Draco," Pansy mumbled into his shirt. "I'm sorry about before. I just… I get so upset that I'm not the only one; that you care for her. You've been mine since we were five years old and I don't want to suddenly start sharing with Scarhead."

Draco laughed silently at the name, surprised it had never crossed his mind. '_Well… you don't want to insult her do you?' _said a small voice at the back of his head. '_You want to shag her.'_ Draco ignored the patronizing voice and placed a soft kiss on Pansy's temple. "You won't ever have to share with her, Pansy."

Pansy nodded against his chest. "Just… why do you like her so much, Draco? She barely speaks to you anymore. I don't understand why you want her besides the obvious reasons of attractiveness and popularity. I absolutely refuse to believe that you simply want her because you can't have her. You're extremely insensitive… but you're not quite that shallow."

Instead of brushing the question off, Draco thought hard about his answer. _Why do I want her?_

Pansy was exceedingly tipsy and exceedingly horny by the time he could manage a response. She was playing with his fingers, inching them along the hem of her nightie, when Draco said softly, "It's because she's the other side of the coin."

Pansy paused and raised her hand up to touch his lips. "What do you mean?"

Draco reached out through the curtains and grabbed a galleon from the bedside table. He held it up in front of their eyes, turning it to compare the different designs on each side. Both were quite eye-catching. "If I flip you over, Pans, I get her. If I flip her over, I get you. Two sides of the same coin… just with different doodles on either one."

"That's ri-ridiculous," slurred Pansy, grabbing his fingers once more to play with the hem of her dress. "I expect a proper explanation in the morning. Now… Service me, manservant."

Draco snorted and slid his hand under the thin pink cloth.

Right as his fingers dipped into her silky knickers, a faraway boom and a massive rumble shook the dungeon dormitory.

Draco sat up, his body tense, a sense of personal preservation nudging at him from the back of his mind. "What was that?"

"Who cares?" Pansy moaned huskily, pulling him back down into the bedding. "It's gone now." She slid one of her hands under his shirt and dragged her fingernails down his chest. "Draco?" she asked with a giggle. "Did you _really_ rub one out while thinking about me fighting Potter?"

"Wrestling naked in pudding," Draco corrected casually, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

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There was nowhere to run; nowhere to hide from the specter of the boy. He could follow her anywhere and everywhere. She couldn't touch him; couldn't fight him; couldn't harm him. If she tried to escape, he'd know instantly and take her over. There was nothing she could do; nothing to do except sit and wait for the Imperiused house elf to bring her food; nothing to do except wait until Tom finally killed her.

And so, for the past week, she had sat in the dark, her naked flesh trembling upon the cold wet floor of the Chamber, her eyes never meeting his.

"I think it's time to play again," giggled Tom. "Don't you?" He knelt down in the gap between her legs, rocking back and forth on his heels like an excited toddler. Ginny gasped as he slid the diary, a conjured quill, and a conjured well of ink into her hands. He was getting stronger even without her writing. He was almost solid.

"Write," he whispered with a menacing grin. "Write like you mean it. Write and pour out your soul. Pour out your anger, your anguish, your fear. Tell me how scared you are."

Ginny spat on the open pages of the diary, snapped it shut, and was about to toss it across the room, when Tom grabbed her jaw in a vice-grip. She felt her skin tear open; felt his hand cutting into her. Ginny refused to cry out.

"Don't be stupid, girl. At this point, your soul is more mine than your own. I can take control any time I wish. I wonder… What would it feel like to kill your own brothers?" He reached out a long finger that appeared to drip with skin colored ink. He gently caressed her cheek, which ripped away at the contact. Tom trailed the spidery digit up and down her body, cutting her open and painting her like a canvas with brush-stokes of torn flesh. "What would it feel like to murder them in their beds? Hmm? I'll make you slit their throats… one… by one… _by one_."

On the last word, Tom plunged his finger into the space between her breasts, impaling her like a kebob. Ginny gave in and screamed as the terrible searing pain shot through her body like an electric shock. Blood dribbled quickly down her chest, pooling in her belly button. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, trying to avert the intense agony with lesser pain.

Tom chuckled and withdrew his hands. Ginny felt him slam into her mind and all of a sudden, she wasn't in control of her own body. She wasn't back in the box… but she couldn't make her limbs move either. Her body picked up the wand lying at her side and drew it across each and every one of her wounds, sealing them shut with nasty _shlick_.

"Now," Tom whispered mercilessly. _"Write!"_ He forced her to open the diary. "Write or your family dies by _your_ hand. Write or Potter, if she still lives, will find herself without her head."

When he left her, Ginny bravely stuttered, "You're going to k-kill them all anyway w-when you have your body."

"A chance to fight and live is far better than certain death while you sleep soundly, is it not?" Tom smiled from ear to ear and scratched his liquidy chin. "Perhaps you need a demonstration of the seriousness of your predicament."

He sneered and dove into her.

Ginny screamed in unimaginable pain, losing track of the outside world as her body was mutilated.

When the muddled haze of pain finally lifted, Ginny found herself back in the steel prison of Tom's mind. She stared out through the solid box in horror. They were standing next to Ron's bed. Its scarlet and gold curtains were drawn back and in her body's hand was a very long… very _sharp_ dagger, it's tip hovering inches above her sleeping brother's throat.

"No! Please don't!" cried Ginny in anguish, clawing at the walls.

'_Then write, Ginny Weasley. Give me your soul and I shall spare them all.'_

Ginny huddled in on herself, already knowing what had to be done. She knew what Ron would do if their places were reversed. He had already sacrificed himself for Harry, Hermione, and Neville.

_Besides, from Harry's description… being dead probably isn't so bad._

It wasn't exactly going out in a blaze of glory as per the guidelines of her grandfather's self instilled 'family tradition'… but it was enough. Ginny would die for them; she would die so her family had a chance to fight for their lives.

"Al-Alright," Ginny whispered.

Tom grinned, walked into the boy's bathroom, and summoned the basilisk for their descent back into the Chamber.

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Hermione stared numbly out the window at the early February snow falling softly upon the grounds. She had long since given up trying to keep her gaze on the limp body that lay beside her; the body of one of the only two people that really understood her; the body of her very first real friend. Hermione brushed her thumb over the calloused hand that sat in her palm.

Snow could only keep her attention for so long.

She rummaged in her bag for the morning's notes and began to read them out loud word for word.

"Will you bloody stop that, Granger?" grunted Millicent Bulstrode angrily from the bed next to her. The girl was fully bandaged from head to toe, recovering from a rather nasty skin-peeling hex that she had received from a jumpy Auror. She looked a bit like she had been mummified.

"Why?" asked Hermione shortly.

"Because I'm trying to sleep and everyday you're in here reading out your bloody class notes." Millicent waved a bandaged arm in the air. "Earth to Buck-teeth! When are you going to get it through your thick head that Potter can't hear you? She's in a coma for Merlin's sake!"

"Piss off, Bulstrode," said a familiar angry voice from behind her. He was always angry now. She missed hearing that touch of constant laughter in his breaking tenor.

"Shove it, Weasley." Millicent flipped him the bird and drew the screen around her bed.

Ron's hands fell on Hermione's shoulders. If things hadn't turned out like this, her heart would have been hammering from the touch. But… unfortunately they had… and her heart could only manage a meager attempt at flipping in recognition of the boy she wanted.

"Keep reading," Ron muttered, sitting down next to her on the edge of Harry's bed. "If you don't, Harry will go mad when she realizes how much homework she has to do."

It was meant to be a joke, but Ron's tone was so miserable and so humorless, not even the most light-hearted of souls would have found it in them to laugh. Instead, for some reason, it made her cry. She turned around and collapsed tiredly against his chest, unable to stop the heavy sobs that wracked her body. She clutched at his shirt and balled his sleeve in her fist, wanting to sink into him; wanting him to make all of this go away, yet knowing he couldn't. Of all the many wonderful things that Ron was; a miracle-worker he was not.

Ron wrapped an arm around her shoulders while his other hand came to rest in her hair. "She'll come back, Mione," he whispered softly. "I know she will."

Hermione wasn't so sure. What little she knew about coma patients suggested that the extent of the trauma to the girl's brain would determine if she ever came out of it. Madame Pomfrey had told them that Harry's head injuries had indeed been extensive.

It was a miracle she was alive at all, really. Harry had fallen the four-hundred feet from the Astronomy Tower into the lake, her magic only doing so much to save her from the drop. She had shattered her spine and skull, most of her organ membranes had torn, and there had been massive internal bleeding and bruising. It had taken Madam Pomfrey three days of constant work to repair the damage. Had Professor Dumbledore not retrieved Harry within minutes of the impact... well... Hermione didn't think the girl had enough luck to survive a second round with the afterlife.

"Come on," said Ron somberly. "Almost time for the afternoon lectures."

Hermione wiped her eyes and sat back. "You don't want to stay with her for a while? We could skive off. The Headmaster would understand."

Ron's expression darkened and he shook his head. "No, I… I need to be doing something."

_Oh, Ron. _

Hermione touched his arm delicately, knowing how hard he was taking this. He put on a stoic face, but she could see through it like it was glass. She could see the storm raging beneath the surface. His two sisters had been torn away from him on the same night; one injured beyond belief, the other possessed by Voldemort.

Hermione knew that if they didn't discover any information in the library on the whereabouts of the entrance to the Chamber, Ron would soon lose what little bit of hope he had left. That was something that she didn't think she could bear.

"Ron, I… I need you to stay with me, okay?"

"I'm right here," Ron mumbled.

"That's not quite what I mean," whispered Hermione sadly.

"Yeah… I… I know." Ron's large hand covered hers. "Let's go, yeah? After class we can… we can go to the library and do some research."

Hermione nodded. The thought that their roles had been ironically reversed, with Ron wanting to work while she wanted to skip class, didn't bring the slightest smile to her face. That was the normal way of things now. Everything was different. Their life had been turned upside down and dropped on its head the morning after Harry's fall from the Astronomy Tower and Ginny's descent into the Chamber.

Needless to say, the Weasleys were falling apart. The twins had stopped causing havoc. It was so strange to see them walking solemnly through the halls, minding their own business. Hermione often caught Percy sobbing quietly to himself in the library as he did his own research to save his baby sister. Ron was… like this; cold and stony on the outside, yet raging on the inside; blaming himself for everything that had happened; inches away from losing it entirely. Mrs. Weasley could be seen day-in and day-out sitting by the lakeshore, staring intently at Harry's charm bracelet, watching for any change. However, it never seemed to move away from a point far below the water.

Hermione had watched with awe as the Professors had parted the Hogwarts Lake in a surprisingly Biblical fashion, tunneling for miles underground in the hopes of reaching the Chamber of Secrets. Yet, as soon as they had reached the wards surrounding it, the entire infrastructure had disappeared, reappearing somewhere far beneath the Forbidden Forest. When they tunneled again, it jumped to a new spot. After a solid month of tunneling, Professor Dumbledore had given up, handing over the job of forcing an entrance to the Department of Mysteries and the Gringott's Cursebreakers. Bill, whom Hermione had just met last month, had apparently rallied the whole institution, convincing the Goblins that anything they found in Salazar's Chamber would be worth a fortune, even if it was junk.

Hermione carefully avoided getting too close to a very nervous looking group of Aurors lined up outside the Great Hall, not wanting to end up like Bulstrode.

With the disappearance of Ginny, the brutal murder of Senior Auror Captain Christine Tully, and the murders of four more junior Aurors since the second of November, the Ministry had been forced to take executive action. They had unofficially 'closed' Hogwarts until the Heir of Slytherin, conveniently rumored to simply be a disgruntled former Death Eater so as not to instill mass panic from the news that Voldemort was out and about, was apprehended.

A transfer program was set up at Beauxbatons for the fleeing students of Hogwarts, so, naturally, nearly everyone had left the school, leaving behind only those who _demanded_ to stay. All that remained of the Hogwarts student body was a handful of proud Slytherins that wouldn't be caught dead at a school that accepted part-Veela into its ranks, forty or so loyal Gryffindors that refused to leave the Weasleys and Harry behind, and Ginny's odd little Ravenclaw friend that Hermione disdained ever so slightly due to the tiny blonde's strange habit of actually reading textbooks upside down.

Due to the lack of students and the need for safety, their normal class schedules had been abandoned. All lessons now took place in the Great Hall. They were divided into their years and each day, for a whole day, they would be taught by a different teacher, only covering Defense, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Potions, Astonomy, and History. The monotony of their daily routine was infuriating. Listening to Professor Bins dwindle on about the various wizarding battles of ancient times every Thursday for hours on end was beginning to eat away at everyone's sanity.

They walked into the Great Hall and took their seats in front of Professor Dumbledore. Today, Monday, was Defense Against the Dark Arts for the second year class. Professor Lockhart had fled the castle as soon as he read the words, 'No one is safe,' painted in blood outside the second floor bathroom. He had made the convenient yet decidedly poor excuse that a tribe in Uganda desperately needed his help with their Nundu infestation. Hermione didn't want to admit that Ron had been right about the charming man.

Right as the Headmaster began the lesson, Madam Pomfrey burst into the Great Hall, her face red and her matron's cap askew. She had quite clearly run all the way from the Hospital Wing.

"May I be of assistance, Poppy?" wheezed Dumbledore calmly. Apart from his eyes that clearly lacked their signature merry twinkle, the old man outwardly exhibited no signs that he had been affected by the events of the last three months.

"Albus!" cried Madam Pomfrey, clutching at a stitch in her side. "Albus, _she's finally awake!"_

Ron was up and sprinting towards the entrance to the Great Hall before the healer had finished the last word. Hermione stared slack-jawed at Madame Pomfrey for a split second before she too burst into action, excitement bubbling in her chest.

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**Next chapter **_**'should'**_** close out book two.**

**I'm terribly sorry for the long wait. This is hot off the press so excuse the minor errors.**

**Drop me a review. **

**NEW ART**

I'm really into music theory so I thought I'd write this whole chapter while continuously listening to 'Moonlight Sonata.' Yes… I _am_ that pretentious. :P

The three locations in Harry's soul were supposed to represent mind, body, and spirit respectively. The rose garden was organized and detailed, the pitch was wild and beautiful, and the station was lively and somewhat hectic.

In this lesbian relationship, I don't want to label either Harry or Ginny as a 'femme' or a 'butch,' because neither of those terms really fit with Harry and Ginny's slightly tomboyish characters, nor do I want to diminish either of their status (statuses? stati? lol) in an equal partnership, but I do want to express that Harry is definitely a bit submissive to Ginny sexually. As Ginny was written as a bit of a firecracker from OoTP onwards (which is why I love her so very much), I think we can all agree that canonHarry was probably submissive as well… aka letting Ginny take the lead in both the sack and their relationship. She did slyly plan that last kiss at the Burrow as his 17th birthday present, after all. Also I think it's nice to imagine that after a long day of captaining the Aurors and being a leader of the wizarding world postDH, canonHarry had someone to come home to that would dominate _him_ for a change (a bit Arthur/Molly-esque). It always upsets me when Harry is written as a dashing, dominating, badass and the fic isn't labeled as "completely and totally AU" (fics that unexpectedly slip into 'Fuck Authority/Manipulative Dumbledore' themes are the absolute _worst_ perpetrators). It might upset the occasional dreamy fangirl or two to realize that Harry James Potter is an emotional wreck that summons every ounce of strength he has to get through the utter shithouse that is his life. He isn't the type of swashbuckling heroic man that will carry them off into the sunset on a white horse with his sword and shield raised high. He's just an average bloke struggling to do what is right rather than what is easy… which is what makes the original books so great.

*gasps for breath*

Also… on a completely unrelated topic… there is a reason for everything; every little tiny thing. I take that to heart when writing. Even the gaping plotholes are important... because they're usually there for a reason… For example, to act as me metaphorically poking you with a sharp stick as if to say, "HEY LOOK AT THIS!" If you're rereading chapters and thinking about canon, you might make some connections and be able to predict where I'm headed. *Glares at Ozma for knowing too much.* For example, the identical wands a few chapters back should have been akin to a punch to the face. I hope you all squealed in excitement (or groaned in exasperation) for the priori incantatem that was bound to happen.

Holmes… You must widen your gaze…


	17. Chapter 15: Whispers in the Library

**Sorry for the long wait. I've been in the hospital. But, to make up for it, here is an insanely long 33k word chapter! (not including a/n)**

As you may have already guessed, this last chapter was extremely relevant in terms of "squiggle factor" and all will be revealed as we move into later books. But to understand Harry's and Ginny's segments you had to shrug on your imagination boots, your simile pants, and your metaphor cap.

I don't want to spoil anything significant, but one of the points I was trying to make with the last chapter was that because she was in a coma and because she didn't quite die (she's only mostly-dead), Harry was able to climb out of the space between dreams and death. This is _significantly _different from her previous encounter with the afterlife when she actually died.

First and foremost, it wasn't a dream. 'She' (her essence, her spirit, her Harryness, whatever you want to call the bit of us that crosses over to the other side) was traversing her soul. She was beneath the physical dream-state. The physical mind of Harry's physical self didn't quite exist in that place. The experiences she had there will never be truly gone from 'Harry's Harryness,' but she won't be able to remember the actual experience. Does that make sense?

Dreams, memories, and 'places that aren't "real", yet still exist in some shape or form' are crucial to this story. I wanted to dance to jkr's tune with the kings cross dumbles bit.

Basically, if you're confused, yet still able to follow along, you're exactly where you're supposed to be.

Thanks to all my loyal readers and reviewers. Enjoy.

SG: Hey, CoS!

CoS: What?

SG: PoA is coming to take your lunch money.

CoS: I'm out of here!

**Chapter 15: Whispers in the Library**

_What sort of world it was now, there was no telling._

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Ron ground his teeth in frustration and tried to find a sense of calm. However, his patience had worn to the point of being dangerously thin and he was finding the search to be rather difficult. He could tell the lock was mocking him; jiggling and clanking away with gleeful defiance. The little bolt's rattle was almost exactly the same timbre of Peeves' grating cackle.

He tried the charm for the fifth time.

The lock jiggled furiously, yet the door remained shut.

Quietly fuming, Ron slashed his wand down in a wide arc and ferociously growled out, _"Bloody… Buggering… ALOHOMORA!"_

Nothing.

Giving up on magic, Ron barreled into the heavy wooden door of the Hospital Wing shoulder first. When the door didn't open, he roared in anguish; the anger that he had been bottling up for months breaking over him in a great tidal surge.

They had been _taken_ from him; his little sister and his best mate, stolen from him in the dead of night. His life had degenerated into a cycle of utter bollocks and he needed this _one_ thing to keep him sane. He needed to know that he could have just one of them back.

He needed Harry and he needed her _now_.

Ron frantically bashed against the door, his vision blurry from the angry teardrops that threatened to fall from his eyes.

A soft hand grasped his wrist. "Ron? What are you-"

"IT WON'T LET ME SEE HER, MIONE!" thundered Ron in desperation and outrage. He flailed away from her grip to slam his body back against the offending wooden barrier.

When he fully realized that it wasn't going to open, somewhere inside his head, the last measure of control that he possessed snapped in half. The torches all along the corridor flickered out… and he pummeled the door once more.

And this time… _this time…_ the wood, in the spot where his shoulder hit it squarely, splintered. A stab of pain shot to his brain as his arm dug an entire inch into the solid door. When he drew away, he saw that a long exceedingly sharp splinter had impaled his bicep.

But a splinter didn't matter; his _arm_ didn't matter. Harry mattered.

Ron prepared to charge the door again with his other shoulder, but before he could take another step, Hermione threw her arms around his waist and cried out pleadingly, "Ron, you have to calm down! You're going to _kill_ yourself!"

As she slid her hands up his back and tucked her head beneath his chin, the fragrant smell of her hair hit him like a Bludger to the gut. It was as if he was suddenly back at Kings Cross, standing in the exact spot where they had first met; the spot where he first realized that he liked the sound of her fluttering sing-song voice. All his rage ebbed away in an instant, leaving him feeling drained and so _very_ tired.

_Sleepy sleepy sleepy sleepy._

Ron sank to his knees, pulling Hermione down with him as he took slow deep breaths of toffee-apple.

"Ron," whispered Hermione in concern. "You _do_ know that only a teacher can unlock the Hospital Wing when Madam Pomfrey isn't inside, don't you?"

Ron harrumphed indignantly. It seemed that even when she was concerned for him, Hermione still couldn't hide the scolding scholarly tone in her voice. If he had not been as tired as he was, he would have been more than happy to bicker with her; happy to do more than grumble bad-temperedly into her shoulder.

"Hold still," said the bushy-haired girl softly, sitting back onto her knees. "This is probably going to hurt quite a bit."

Ron hissed in pain and tried to think of something else as Hermione slowly and carefully withdrew the thin spike of wood in his arm. He kept his unblinking gaze on her face; on her chocolate eyes; on the large front teeth that made her look like she was constantly pouting; on the little slip of tongue that stuck out at the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. He didn't dare look down at the gruesome wound that he was only now just beginning to truly feel.

When she finally wrenched it free, he turned slightly green at the sight of it and grunted, "Bloody hell, that thing's at least a foot long."

Shoving him backwards in anger, Hermione looked away and muttered under her breath, "It's your own fault, Ronald."

"Oi!" Ron moaned tiredly, clutching his arm in an attempt to stem the steady flow of blood. "Have a bit of sympathy for a bloke, would you?"

"No," she replied stubbornly, her chest heaving slightly. "I won't!"

At first, Ron thought she was laughing at him. But when she turned her head back around, he saw that her eyes were wet and her eyebrows were set in an angry downturn. Just as she opened her mouth to give him a piece of whatever was on her mind, Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore rounded the corner.

"Good heavens!" cried the Medi-Witch as she took in the state of his arm. "What's happened, dear? Was it another attack? And what in Merlin's name has happened to my door?"

Ron took a sideways glance at Hermione, who was glaring daggers at him. "I… er… I kind of broke it, Ma'am," he said with a nervous shrug.

"Did you, now?" the Headmaster cut in, clearly amused. His eyes were twinkling merrily for the first time Ron had seen in months. "That is most peculiar. The doors of Hogwarts are usually _quite_ obstinate when they do not wish to be opened. May I ask how you were feeling when the wood splintered, Mr. Weasley?"

"Oh uh… angry I suppose. It… it wouldn't let me in to see her." Ron looked down at the ground sheepishly, unable to meet the electric blue gaze behind the old man's half-moon spectacles. "I just need to see her, sir."

"Indeed," said Professor Dumbledore, nodding lightly. "As do I." The wizened Headmaster turned the handle of the heavy door and it swung inward without protest.

A bloodcurdling shriek of pain and terror spilled out into the corridor, causing Ron to jump in surprise. Madam Pomfrey, in her panic, accidentally dug her wand tip into his wound as she attended to it, but he barely noticed the sharp jolt of pain; he was far too distracted as he relived his encounter with the Devil's Snare. He knew that scream; he hated that scream.

_Harry!_

Ron leapt up off the floor and darted inside the Hospital Wing, his breath catching in his throat with every pound of his heart.

And there she was.

Harry was flailing beneath the thin sheet of her cot; her face contorted into an expression of intense agony. Tears were streaming down her cheeks in a steady onslaught as she screamed for protection from some unseen horror. Her mouth was bloody from where she had bitten off part of her lower lip. She was clawing at her face and neck; her fingernails cutting deep crimson gashes into her pale skin.

The shouts of concern and confusion from Hermione and Madam Pomfrey echoed in his ears like a dull buzz. The room spun around him and suddenly, he found himself moving without thinking. Ron bolted to the bed and clambered onto it, gathering Harry's thin squirming frame into his arms. "Harry," he whispered frantically, pulling her limbs together in a vice-grip. "Harry, wake up! I'm here! You're safe, Harry!"

The raven-haired girl let out a shuddering gasp and her eyelids fluttered open.

Ron felt the blood rapidly drain from his face at the sight.

Her eyes, normally a vibrant twinkling green… _were blood red_.

"_H-HARRY?"_ yelled Ron in shock. "W-Wha-?"

The red eyes narrowed with seething anger as they swiveled in his direction. In an unholy whisper that sent shivers down Ron's spine, Harry snarled, _"DIE!"_

A great burst of howling wind flooded the Hospital Wing. Out of nowhere, something hard hit him in the gut and the impact threw him backwards off the bed. He soared through the air at a breakneck pace towards the wall behind him. His head collided with something extraordinarily solid… and… and…

_Sleepy sleepy sleepy sleepy._

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Reveling in the kill, she raised the wand. A cylinder of red light plunged into her chest, leaving a gaping hole between her breasts. She stared up in surprise at the hand holding the weapon that had killed her; a hand that was covered in blood; a hand that was spidery and pale; a hand that was small and callused.

She watched with glee as her body twisted unnaturally about in the air. She screamed in agony as her leg was wrenched from her body, severing at the hip joint. She cried out for the death that she wouldn't grant herself.

_Go away!_

Harry shivered and curled up beneath the warm covers, shaking her head fiercely to rid herself of the terrible memories; memories of blood and murder and death; memories that were not her own.

"Harry?" asked a quiet voice from the bedside. "Are you alright? Would you like another blanket?"

Harry opened her eyes and observed her bushy-haired friend. Hermione was slumped weakly into the purple armchair that was nestled between the partition and the cot. Her voluminous brown mane was hiding half of her expression from view, but Harry could tell that she was exhausted.

Both Hermione and Ron had been sitting at her bedside for an entire week, alternating turns to eat meals and sleep. The two had made some sort of pact to never let her be alone and the stress of it was obviously taking its toll on them. The dark bags beneath their eyes certainly said as much.

Harry reached for the self-inking quill and the roll of parchment on her bedside table. She unfurled it with a flourish and found an open space between her many scribbles of conversation. While she could move most of her appendages adequately, she had yet to gain back many of her more refined motor skills, which included control of her fingers. Harry gripped the quill in her fist and scrawled out a near illegible response.

_I'm fine. It's all in my head. You really don't need to stay with me, Mione. Go back to your bed and get a goodnight's rest. You look terrible. _

Harry handed Hermione the parchment and lightly rapped herself on the forehead.

Hermione smiled warmly at her and their eyes met for a split second before Harry hurriedly looked away, burying her face into the bedding. She couldn't look directly at either of her friends anymore, especially Hermione. The betrayal that had burned in the girl's chocolate gaze that night still tugged painfully at Harry's heart.

Sighing heavily, Harry flipped the hourglass to help suppress the surge of her murderous visions. The booming pound of Hermione's and Ron's heartbeat always helped her focus on separating the images from reality. It was extremely comforting in the sense that it reassured her that she was back; free from the hellish dream.

Hermione snorted derisively at the contents of Harry's note. "Speak for yourself, Harry. You can't talk, you can't walk, you can't eat, and you barely sleep. You can't even hold a quill properly! I'm fit as a fiddle in comparison, I'll have you know."

Harry grinned into the pillow at the slight admonishing tone in her friend's voice. It was nice to know that despite all that had happened, Hermione remained unchanged at heart.

Raising her head, she gestured for the parchment and Hermione slid it back into her hand. Harry quickly scribbled:

_If anything happens again, I'm sure Dobby will show up to set me straight. If you're not going to go to the dorm, at least get in with me. I know you can't sleep in that chair. I've been watching. You need to rest._

She handed the roll to Hermione and shifted over to make space on the bed.

Hermione stared at the parchment for the longest time, chewing on her lip nervously.

Exasperated, Harry poked the girl's knee and then patted the sheets welcomingly.

In a very quiet voice, Hermione shook her head and whispered, "_No._ No, I don't think…" She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I'm… I'm not her replacement, Harry."

Harry's body went rigid. It was as if an ice-cube had been dropped down the back of her hospital gown. A kind smile, cherry-red hair, and a swath of freckles scattered across pale skin danced before her eyes. She quickly turned away from Hermione and rolled over on her side to stare at the wall, trying to ignore the ache in her chest that seared to life at the mention of Ginny.

For three and a half months, Harry had been in a coma; for three and a half months, Ginny had been in the Chamber; for three and a half months, the Weasleys had been holding on to hope. The only thing that let them know Ginny was still alive was the murders of the Aurors interspersed throughout the months. Harry didn't want to admit it, but a part of her definitely wanted there to be another attack. She knew full well that it was terrible for her to hope for the death of another person and despised herself for having the thought, but… without Ginny…

A weak sob bubbled up from her throat.

_Forgive me, Gin! I just… I don't care how many die! As long as you're… Oh God… _

The bed sank with weight and an arm found its way around her midsection.

"I'm sorry," mumbled Hermione softly. "That wasn't the right thing to say."

Harry shrugged off the apology and hastily wiped the tears from her eyes. She grabbed Hermione's hand and squeezed it tight.

With a small sigh, Hermione rolled Harry back over, leveled her with a heavy stare, and whispered in earnest, "Listen, the mandrakes will be ready in just a few more months. Myrtle and Lavender might know something. We _will_ find her, Harry! I know we will."

The image of an emaciated and broken body lying in the dark flashed before Harry's vision. The large amber eyes on her heart-shaped face were vacant and glazed. Her long shiny hair was matted with grime.

_I don't… I don't think it will matter by then. It took nearly a thousand years before someone found the chamber the first time. _

Harry turned her head to the side, breaking the rather intense look they were sharing not only because she found it hard to look at Hermione without being overwhelmed by guilt, but also because the brown-haired girl's eyes, although a different color, had the exact same pattern of colored flecks that Ginny's did.

"Oh _honestly_, I wish you'd stop doing that," mumbled Hermione exasperatedly, giving Harry a small shove. "I'm really not mad at you. You had no control that night. The fact that you couldn't move or talk while he could is proof of that. Really, Harry, it wasn't your fault."

Harry's eyes widened as the last four words struck a particularly sensitive nerve.

**/FLASHBACK/**

_So close…_

_Just a little more._

_Just a little…_

"Harry! Harry, wake up! I'm here! You're safe, Harry!"

_FREEDOM!_

He opened his eyes, breathing in a great gasp of air for the first time in twelve and a half years. A bright burst of painful sunlight was streaming down into his vision, impairing his newly-acquired sight. He was just about to raise a hand to shield his eyes, when a loud breaking voice rudely shouted into his face.

The spitting image of young Septimus Weasley swam into view. The man's familiar sharp blue gaze was peering intently down at him in shock.

_That's odd._ _I was sure I had killed you before. Well… no matter._

"_Die!"_ he snarled venomously, gathering his magic into a ball. With little effort, he thrust it outward from his body to pummel the young man in the stomach. There was a satisfying crunch of bone as the body slammed into the opposite wall.

A young girl, whose hair was as bushy as a sphinx's mane, screeched and ran to the fallen body. He watched her cradle the redhead's bloodied skull in her lap whilst she glared back at him with an intense look of heart-break and betrayal. It was an expression he had come to savor; etched upon many of the motionless faces of those that fell under the fury of his wand.

He sneered at her and sent his magic out once more… but a strong force met the spell halfway. The wandless bludgeoning hex was slapped away from its target to ricochet into a stained glass window, which shattered magnificently from the force of the combined magics.

He easily recognized the interfering power. It tasted _horrid._

"Good evening, Tom," whispered the old man's voice from his left.

Voldemort swiveled in the bed to look at his former professor. "Ahhhh, _Dumbledore. _How… _nice…_ to see you."

Even though the wizened man stared at him with impassive stoniness, he could tell that his former professor's rage was simmering right below the calm surface.

"I'm afraid I cannot express similar sentiments, Tom," said Dumbledore evenly. "Also, I must ask you to leave that body at once."

He laughed coldly at the utter ridiculousness of the request. "And if I refuse?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid, Tom, that refusal is not an option." As quick as a flash, the old man whipped out his wand. A great orb of white light began to surge at its tip, crackling with lightning.

Voldemort leapt up and dove for the wand that Weasley had dropped, throwing up a shield a split-second before the spell reached him. He dispelled the magic and, with a flourish of his borrowed wand, the beds surrounding Dumbledore ignited with flame and rushed toward the troublesome fool.

Dumbledore calmly transfigured the assailing beds into canaries while the medi-witch beside him took up the attack. She threw a few powerful stunners which he shielded with ease and bouts of disheartening laughter. With a prompt flick, Voldemort sent the woman careening backwards to slam into the far wall where she crumpled to the ground and lay still.

Dumbledore resumed his attack, throwing a hefty barrage of advanced binding spells careening in his direction.

Voldemort grinned as he dodged and shielded.

_The old fool is holding back!_ _But why?_

He ducked beneath a humming net of golden light… and then he saw the answer flickering within Dumbledore's eye.

His grin stretched even wider.

The bearded wizard was not merely angry. He was _sad_. He was _concerned_. He was trying not to hurt the host body.

Sneering, Voldemort quickly turned Weasley's wand on himself, pointing it to his own temple. "Another spell, Dumbledore, and this girl will meet her death!"

The old man frowned and lowered his wand.

"_Oh my…"_ Voldemort whispered silkily. "Is this child important? Do you have a… _soft spot_… for her? The Dumbledore of my time wouldn't have hesitated to sacrifice a mere child to apprehend me. Tell me, who is she?"

Dumbledore remained silent.

"_Now now_, you can tell me! After all, we're all friends here," cackled Voldemort, slowly backing towards the door. "Well, it doesn't matter, I suppose. She'll live if I go free. She'll die if I do not. The choice is-"

_CRACK_

"YOU WILL NOT HURT HARRY POTTER!" yelled a high squeaky voice from somewhere around his ankles.

Voldemort frowned. He knew the name.

_Harry… Potter? It… It can't be… No! I killed her!_

A small hand touched the flesh of his leg and suddenly he was being pulled backward; pulled back into…

He suddenly remembered the green fire rushing toward his face. He remembered the pain of a thousand deaths. He remembered his forced attachment.

_NO! I… WILL… NOT…_

Harry's legs gave way and she fell forward to what would surely be a nose-breaking glasses-shattering impact. Yet, miraculously, before her head hit the ground, a cushion of air caught and lowered her gently down to the cold stone. The hem of a dirtied tea cozy appeared in her field of vision and beneath it were two, small, knobby legs. The little legs bent at the knees and the face of Dobby the House-elf came into focus. Dobby reached out his little hand, lightly touched her face, and said sadly, "Dobby did warn Harry Potter! Harry Potter should not have come back to Hogwarts, miss."

As quick as he had come, Dobby vanished with another loud _CRACK._

Harry tried to speak, but found that she couldn't. Moving had the same frustrating result. Well, no… it wasn't that she _couldn't_ move or speak. She could feel her muscles; knew that they could move; knew that her voice worked just fine. It was rather that she had… _forgotten_ how to do it. It felt like she was missing something; a link somewhere in the chain between command and action.

Professor Dumbledore knelt down next to her. With surprising strength for a man of his age, he lifted her numb body from the floor and deposited her onto the nearest undamaged bed. Peering deeply into Harry's eyes, he cupped her cheek and said kindly, "Do not fret, Harry. All is well. House-elves are most amazing creatures, are they not? I have never seen such an ingenious use of their household cleansing magic. Thanks to your small friend, Voldemort is vanquished and, with a few nudges in the right direction, your body will return to its normal state in due time."

Harry could feel his light touch on her disjointed surface thoughts.

_How did he… _

_How did I… _

_I'm not…_

_Am I?_

"Alas, I do not know the answer myself," wheezed Dumbledore with a pained look upon his face. "I have many theories… but they are only that. As I have said countless time before, you are quite adept at making the impossible possible. When it comes to understanding the nature of magic, we wizards are but infants, still unable to walk on our own. Magic itself is a vast raging ocean and the majority of our kind have never done more than wade in the gentler surf. But I assure you, Harry, I will do everything in my power to-"

"P-Professor Dumbledore, sir," interrupted a small frantic voice from the corner. "I… I c-can't stop the b-bleeding!"

_Hermione… Ron. Oh God… I… RON!_

The Headmaster's wrinkled hand left her face and he disappeared from view.

"P-Please, sir," moaned Hermione, her voice trembling with desperation, "I can't… The last thing I said to him was… was…" Hermione trailed off and sobbed quietly, "_Please,_ not him t-too!"

"Do calm yourself, Miss Granger. It is merely a fracture and a mild concussion."

There was a short pause and then a most welcome groggy groan rang out across the Hospital Wing. "Wuzwrnghrry? Hmmmynee. Tofeepple."

"I'm sorry! I'm so _so_ sorry," cried Hermione. _"Oh Ron!_"

The Headmaster chuckled softly. "There there. A good night's rest and Mr. Weasley will be right as rain." Dumbledore re-entered her vision and strode across the room to Madam Pomfrey, who, in moments under the Headmaster's wand, shakily got to her feet. After the matron had finished healing everyone's wounds, Dumbledore clapped his hands together and said lightly, "Now, to business." Beside Harry's bed, a pink cushioned armchair popped into existence. The chair sighed with delight as the Headmaster sat. He tilted Harry's head upward to meet his eyes and smiled warmly at her. "Forgive my intrusion once again, Harry, but I must know everything. Do relax as I peruse your memory."

Harry reached out with her mind to touch his barriers.

_Did you save her?_

When Professor Dumbledore frowned, Harry's chest tightened painfully.

_How long has it been?_

The elder wizard's sad grimace deepened and the lines of his aged face became more pronounced, making his already thin visage look skeletal. The sour look gave Harry all the information she needed to draw the conclusion that it had been a very long time indeed.

The next logical question didn't need to be asked, because if the answer was negative, she would refuse to acknowledge it. There was no way that she could accept Ginny was gone without having searched for herself.

The Headmaster entered the corridor of her mind gently, opening and wading through each memory in reverse_. _Harry didn't bother closing doors to stash away the more embarrassing and private memories. She was too tired and too afraid that she might hide something crucial.

It felt like and most likely _was_ hours before the professor withdrew. With a tired sigh, the wizened man slumped backward into his cushy chair, closed his eyes, and began to mumble quietly to himself. It was the first time that she thought he truly looked his age. Harry could tell from his expression that he was concentrating intensely, trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle. After ten minutes of this, the Headmaster abruptly stood, muttering something about a girl in a bathroom, which Harry found to be rather odd.

The Headmaster made to leave, but after taking a step, he paused and turned back, fixing Harry with a penetrating stare. Placing his wrinkled hand gently upon her shoulder, he wheezed, "I know what you're thinking, Harry… quite literally, in fact." He tapped his head and peered knowingly at her over his half-moon glasses. "You must understand that neither you, nor Miss Weasley is at fault. Tom Marvolo Riddle was a truly cunning young man who grew into a foe that outsmarted and overpowered the very best of us, myself included. Now… get some sleep, child. I shall return in the morning to help with your physical recovery. And do be sure to augment your magic tonight. It is of the utmost importance that you refrain from entering the dream a third time."

_The dream, sir? Is that… is that how he got in?_

Without answering, the Headmaster squeezed her shoulder, smiled warmly, and left the Hospital wing.

**/END/**

A cold voice whispered at the back of Harry's mind. _'I want you to know, Potter, this is __all __your own doing. Little Ginny __cares __for you __so __much._ _Her fear of losing you and her fear of not being good enough for the Good, Great, Harriet Potter made it so __very __easy for me to peel away at the layers of her soul.'_

Harry shut her eyes.

_I'm sorry, Professor, but Tom's right. In the end… it all comes back to me._

"You know…" whispered Hermione, giving Harry's shoulder a soft shake. "I'm sure You-Know-Who knows plenty of wandless spells. He could have _easily_ killed Ron with a stronger curse. Maybe… Maybe it was _you_ that held him back, Harry."

Harry turned over and hugged the girl soundly.

_Yeah. Maybe. _

Hermione rubbed Harry's back comfortingly. "Try and sleep tonight, okay? Professor Dumbledore will be here in the morning to work on walking with you. You won't be able make any progress if you're exhausted."

Hermione made to get back in her chair, but Harry pulled her back and sent her a pleading look.

_Please… Just for tonight._

The bushy-haired girl seemed to get the point. "_Alright, alright. _But don't you dare drool on me, Harriet Potter!"

Harry grinned happily and picked up the quill and parchment once more.

_I won't drool if you don't snore like an elephant._

"I do _not_ snore like an elephant!" scoffed Hermione, folding her arms in indignation.

Harry raised her eyebrows playfully and pointed towards Lavender's bed at the far end of the wing. All throughout first year, Lavender had complained about Hermione's monstrous snoring when her curtains weren't properly shut. Harry had only heard it one or two times and she had to grudgingly agree with their blonde roommate. It was _indeed_ colossal.

The brown-haired girl's face flushed to the shade of a ripened tomato and she flung the pillow at Harry's head. "Oh shut up. _You_ sleep with a plushie."

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"_Ever together, together forever." _

"_Swirley-twirley, hurly-whirly."_

"_Forever and ever."_

The quiet song echoed strangely in her ears, as if it came from a source outside her own body; as if it flowed from the lips of some other broken soul.

A droplet fell into the still water around her, thrusting its calm surface into a state of rippling chaos.

"Plop!" she said in cheerful welcome.

Another drop fell squarely upon her head, thanking her graciously for her consideration.

"Plip!"

Two drops fell to the small pool together and their ripples created the most beautiful pattern of spirals.

"Plip-plop," she agreed, laughing heartily into her hair. "The sky is _considerably_ wet today!"

She raised her hands up towards the slippery stone heavens and began a new song, waving her arms back and forth with the rhythm. _"One drop, two drops, three drops, FOUR. Five drops, six drops, seven drops, MORE. Eight drops, nine dr-"_

A bolt of pretty red light whizzed past her ear, interrupting the verse. From within the shadows of the large stone legs that towered above her, a dangerously quiet voice asked slowly, "What are you doing?"

Losing count of her droplet friends, she giggled up at the giant man that forever stood sentinel in the dark._ "Monkeyface, monkeyface, Mr. MonkeyFAAACE!"_

He stepped from the darkness and approached her slowly, his long legs sloshing through the knee-deep water in which she sat immersed up to her neck.

"_Ohhhhhh, there once was a wizard who sat on a stump."_

"Ginny," he hissed softly. "I asked you what you were doing. It would be _most_ wise to answer."

Her body shivered involuntarily, but she resumed her song, staring intently up at the ceiling. _"Tra la dee." _

He knelt down next to her.

"_Tra la doo." _

His solid hand softly grabbed her chin and pulled it back down, his fingers ripping into her skin.

"_Tra la dee!" _Even though her throat vibrated, even though her mouth moved, it didn't sound like her own song. It _was_ quite nice, but it had to belong to someone else. It was much too sad to belong to her.

He leaned forward, placing his lips next to her ear.

'_His bum found a rather uncom-"_

"You're not writing," he crooned in a silky voice, his breath icy-cold on the skin of her neck.

She shrugged and lightly pawed at the grimy water, making little ripples that spread all the way across the pool._ "Scribble, scrabble, scribble, scrabble, BREAK-TIME! Splish-splash-splish!"_

He drew back and ran his spidery finger down her cheek in a soft caress, peeling away her flesh like a knife on potato skin. "You know what happens when you stop writing, don't you?"

Accustomed to the horrid pain, she reached up, tweaked his delicately pointed nose, and chanted in a playful voice, _"There's a dragon under your bed! AGHH! Take cover! It's coming to eat your head!"_

"Well then, I suppose you need reminding." He smiled nastily and clamped his hand down on her shoulder.

A flood of crimson spurted out into the cold water as her skin melted beneath his touch. She watched with fascination as the blood spread. It twisted into different shapes, staining the already dark liquid a deeper shade of black. Intrigued, she dipped a finger into the bloodied pool and moved it about. _"_Hmmmm. _Swirley-twirley spirals, plip plop plip."_

"Write," he spat venomously. "Write, or your family dies!"

With a resigned sigh, she stood and shuffled over to the diary that lay open at the edge of the water, a small trail of blood dripping in her wake. She sat down on the damp embankment, rolled the tip of her quill against her shoulder wound, and began to scribble it across the yellowed pages. The red stream of gibberish that flowed from the quill didn't make sense to her eyes, but that didn't really matter anymore. She was so used to the feeling of losing herself bit by bit, that she could put her soul on the page without writing a coherent word.

"_Good girl,"_ he hissed with a cruel laugh, slowly walking back to his shadowy enclave. "So like a Weasley to sacrifice themselves for others. Septimus was always going on about how his _noble_ grandfather died while saving a village from a giant. Pompous fool. Such sacrifice is meaningless when all men eventually die." He paused and then smirked. "Well, except for _me_, of course."

Rocking back and forth, she splashed her toes in the puddles of the murky water and sang gently, _"Harry, Harry, quite contrary. How does your garden grow?"_

His smirk vanished; quickly replaced by an annoyed grimace. "You know, I enjoyed you so much better when you were sane. You were _so_ delicious and I do miss your screaming ever so much. I almost wish I could start all over again. There's barely anything left of you now. You're the bitter aftertaste of a gourmet meal."

Giggling derisively, she looked up from her scribbles and whispered in sing-song, _"She's going to get you, Tommy Tom Tom. Yes, delicious and nutritious scremsies!"_

He leered at her as he disappeared into the darkness. "We shall see, girl. _Oh yes…_ We shall see."

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Conflicted, Draco leaned against the wall, weighing the pros and cons of taking action.

It had been two weeks since Harry had awakened and, as Draco hadn't fancied the idea of visiting before now to see her pale comatose body, it had been four months since he had seen her last. He had told Pansy that he was going to the Library. While it wasn't a total lie, as he did need to check out a book for his Transfiguration essay, it wasn't the total truth either. He just wanted to see Harry with his own eyes now that she was finally healed.

"Are you going to go in or are you just going to lurk suspiciously in that corner?" asked the hard-faced Auror that was standing guard just outside the Hospital Wing.

"I'm thinking about it _while_ I lurk," replied Draco snidely.

The man twirled his wand threateningly between his fingers. "Well, think faster, _boy_, because you're giving me a headache. Make a choice, or I'll make it for you."

_How dare you threaten me._

"What's your name, Auror?" asked Draco innocently.

The scruffy man let out a harsh bark of laughter. "As if I'd go and tell _you_, laddie! Don't want your father swooping about my head; jangling his gold and brandishing threats. Now… in or out?"

_Don't be an idiot._

_She doesn't want to see you._

_You're making a mistake._

"In," he drawled nastily.

The Auror lowered his twirling wand. "What a shame. Had you decided to stick around, I could have gotten a little target practice."

Even though the voices in Draco's head were telling him to run far _far_ away from Harry, he sneered at the man and proudly strode into the ward. It was as quiet as death in the large obscenely clean room, save for the frightening snores of Weaselby, who sat fast asleep in a large purple armchair that clashed horribly with his hair.

Draco's breath hitched nervously when he saw her. She was wide awake and sitting up in bed with her nose buried in a thick dusty book. He had hoped that she might have been sleeping so that he could have come and gone unnoticed.

She looked so different from the last time he had seen her. Her long jet-black hair had lost much of its wildness and shine. The raven strands hung limply around her shoulders, looking rather spindly; like that of a banshee's. He reasoned that it was the natural effect of daily Scourgify spells in the place of showering properly, but as he was acutely aware of his fetish for shiny black hair, to see hers so mistreated upset his senses rather thoroughly.

Her face was slightly older... more womanly, but her beauty was marred because she was _painfully_ thin; her toned body appearing atrophied and frail. He had never seen her looking so unlike herself; so… _weak._

Yet, to Draco, the most jarring change was her eyes. The emeralds behind her wire-frame glasses were gaunt, distinctly lacking their former bright twinkle. It was the same look he had seen on the faces of the majority of the Gryffindor students. It was the look of hopelessness.

As he slowly approached, her head swiveled in his direction and he suddenly felt a small urge to duck behind the nearest bed, above which floated the corpse of a blackened smoky ghost that was sporting pigtails and thick horn-rimmed glasses. If Harry's piercing green gaze hadn't been boring holes into his head, he would have surely stopped to gawk.

Draco paused and stepped backwards nervously, not wanting to be on the receiving end of one of her many nasty jinxes.

Raising an eyebrow, Harry closed her book, swung her feet off the bed so she could face him properly, and gave him a look that quite plainly said, _'this had better be good.'_

Draco frowned as her legs swiveled in the air. To the untrained eye, the movement might have gone unnoticed. However, to the _learned_ glance of a 'Harry-watcher,' everything about her posture seemed wrong. She was stiff and unmoving, lacking the fluidity that she usually exuded both on and off the Quidditch pitch.

Harry sat in silence, clearly waiting for him to speak.

He ran his fingers through his coiffed hair and said quietly, "Erm… hey."

Her eyebrows rose ever higher, but she waved with a small gesture of her fingers.

_Hey? That's all you can say? Man up. Say, 'I'm glad you're alright.' Say it you bloody pansy! _

He opened his mouth… but the words failed to come out.

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Harry picked up a quill and some parchment, quickly scrawled something down, and held the note out to him.

Draco didn't quite understand until he took it from her and found the messy circled message beneath a mass of cramped writing.

_What do you want, Draco?_

He handed the paper back to her in shock. "Y-You can't speak? Why not?"

Harry scribbled a longer message this time. Draco noticed that her hand was shaking oddly as she scratched the quill across the page.

_Madam Pomfrey said something about damaged neuron pathways and why she can't just wave her wand and make me better. Don't ask me to explain it._

Draco's eyes narrowed. He didn't like the thought of never again hearing her squeaky chime-like voice. "Will you… Will you be able to speak again?"

Harry nodded.

"Oh… that's good." He gave her what he thought was a winning smile.

She nodded again and stared at him expectantly.

_Say it! Say it, you ruddy ponce! _

When the silence had stretched for far too long, Harry leaned over and tapped her original message.

"Yes," drawled Draco, "right… Well…" He trailed off, running his hands once again through his hair, unable to meet her eyes.

Sighing lightly, Harry took the parchment from him, scratched out a note, and shoved it back in his hands.

_For Merlin's sake, I have research to do! So, if you aren't going to get to the point, then please just leave me alone. Say what you want to say and get out or I'm going to sic a mad house-elf on you. _

Steeling himself, Draco cast his eyes upon the floor. "Well, I just wanted… I just wanted to say that I'm glad you're alright. Things would… Well, things wouldn't be the same if you… you know."

He braved a quick look at her.

Harry was staring at his chest intently; the beginnings of a thick rosy blush forming on her cheeks.

Draco grinned and quickly changed the subject. "How do you have a house-elf? You know… without a house?"

Her blush evaporated as quickly as it had come and she glared at him fiercely.

_Oh bollocks… I shouldn't have said that._

She snatched back the parchment and scribbled furiously. She thrust it back at him in a punch.

_For your information, Dobby isn't MY house-elf. Having a house-elf is exactly like what the Dursley's made me do for eleven years and it nauseates me. He belongs to a family that hates, beats, and punishes him and quite frankly, it's driven him insane. He has a fixation on getting me injured to keep me safe and thus tried to flatten Ginny and I with giant trees. On the other hand, he's not all bad. The little bugger just saved my life._

Unable to wrap his mind around the words, he stood transfixed, reading and rereading the name 'Dobby' in disbelief.

Harry coughed and Draco jumped.

She was glaring at him in silent questioning.

Her eyes were _so _green. He never knew what shade of green it was. As the sparkling orbs stared up at him, he found the words rolling from his tongue of their own accord. "But… Dobby… Dobby is _my_ elf."

Harry's face went slack, her mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise.

Owning house-elves was a perfectly reasonable practice, but what he had just said sounded terrible, even to his own ears. "I mean… he belongs to my family," Draco muttered quickly._ Shut up. Shut up. Shut up._ "No… he's not… erm… I mean he's our serv-"

WHAM

His head twisting painfully from the force of her fist, Draco stumbled backwards into the bed containing the petrified body of Lavender Brown. He slid to the ground in a heap, his eyes feeling exceptionally wet due to the pain in his jaw. For someone that looked so weak, Harry was still surprisingly strong.

"Harry! What's wrong? What's happened?" cried Weasley's tired breaking voice. "Malfoy! What the bloody-"

Draco didn't hear the rest of the redhead's rant, because Harry had just fallen from the bed to land roughly on top of him. Had the girl not been totally enraged, he might have been able to appreciate the situation. "Harry," he said quickly. "I'm sorry, alright? I'll just leave!"

She snarled angrily and grabbed his collar, pulling back her fist for another punch. Draco threw his hands up to shield his face from the imminent blow…

But it never came.

His body slowly relaxed from his defensive wince and he chanced peeking at her through the crack in his fingers.

Harry's balled fist was frozen in the air above her head, as if she had just been caught in a body-bind. Her green eyes were open wide and her vacant gaze was focused on his forehead. It looked to Draco like she wasn't seeing her surroundings, but rather, was flashing back to some vivid past event.

"Harry," laughed Weasley quietly. "As much as I'm enjoying this, I think it would be best to just leave the stupid blighter alone. The room is beginning to smell like a Malfoy and it's making me sick."

At the word 'Malfoy,' Harry's eyes refocused. They narrowed in a wild and thoughtless rage, becoming ever madder by the second. Her body began to shake violently.

Thinking she was having some sort of fit, Draco tried to wiggle out from under her, but as quick as lightning, Harry clasped her hands around his neck and slowly began to _squeeze_.

"_Agrry!"_ he choked out in fear, his fingers frantically fumbling to unpeel her vice-grip.

At his cry, a great buffet of harsh wind blew through the Hospital wing, shaking beds and sending bedpans flying.

"_HARRY!"_ yelled Weasley, diving for the girl that had suddenly gone wild. "W-WHAT ARE YOU _DOING?_"

The tall gangly redhead leant his strength towards peeling Harry away from Draco, but his efforts seemed fruitless. In the few seconds since she had punched him, Harry had somehow lost her mind and it seemed that her only goal now was strangling him to death. She loomed over him, her curtain of black hair tickling his nose and shielding her face from view.

He needed air.

He couldn't breathe.

Harry's hands tightened and she made a choking noise that sounded oddly like the word, 'diary.'

_Diary? What in the-_

Her hair blew backwards from her face in a strong gust… and Draco let out a scream of horror, which, due to her squeezing hands, escaped from his throat as a squelching frightened gargle.

Harry's eyes were absolutely_ terrifying_… and not because she was raving with fury. No. It was because the outer rims of her emerald irises were not the deep dark green they should have been.

Rather… they were a bloody, glowing, _unholy_ shade of crimson.

Draco tried to scurry away from the black-haired girl whilst Weasley tugged at her midsection, but the grip she had on his neck seemed unbreakable. Weasley's pulls merely dragged the two of them across the hospital floor.

Harry leaned down, opened her mouth, and whispered in a rasping, gasping, yet entirely coherent voice, _"Y-Your f-f-f-father… will p-pay! Y-Your whole… f-fa-f-family… will p-pay… for t-ta-taking… h-her… f-f-f-from me!"_

Baring her teeth like some sort of feral animal, she pushed down on his neck and it felt as if her fingers, if possible, tightened.

In what seemed like no time at all, Draco could feel his eyes bulging out of their sockets; could feel his lungs grasping at straws; could feel his brain running on empty.

_I'm dying._

_I'm going to die._

_I'm actually going to die!_

_Harry is really going to kill me!_

_A girl I fancy is literally going to bloody kill me!_

_Pansy will be murderously upset if she finds out I came here._

_Where in the buggering FUCK is Madam Pomfrey when you need her?_

"_P-Petrificus Totalus!"_ shouted a nervous voice from across the room.

Draco inhaled a great gasping breath as the death-grip upon his neck fell away. His lungs cried out in joy as fresh cool air rushed into his body. He quickly scrambled away from the immobile raven-haired girl, because her half-green half-red eyes, cloudy with murderous insanity, were still latched onto his own.

"What happened?" asked the newcomer frantically. "Did he say something about her mum and dad?"

_Oh Merlin, don't tell me…_

He miserably looked up at the boy to whom he now owed a life debt.

_Shite._

It was Longbottom.

"I dunno, Nev," replied Weasley angrily. "_I_ was sleeping peacefully. Ask this prat."

Draco stood up and flailed his arms, gesticulating wildly. "It was certainly nothing worth _killing_ over! All I said was that Dobby belonged to my family and then she went off on me!"

Weasley's jaw fell slack in astonishment; his mouth opening and closing silently.

"Speak up, Weaselby," drawled Draco bad-temperedly, rubbing at his bruised neck. "If you know why I was almost murdered, then I'd really like to hear the explanation!"

The redhead spoke slowly. If he hadn't had a look of such intense seriousness on his freckled face, Draco would have assumed that the boy had suddenly developed a speech impediment. "I… Dobby… And Harry said…Your father… The diary was in the cauldron!" A look of enlightened comprehension dawned across Weasley's face, before it melted into an expression of fury. "_Oh Malfoy_…" he growled, raising his wand slowly. "You're _literally_ a son of a bitch! It was _your_ father that planted Riddle's diary on Ginny, wasn't it? That day back in Diagon Alley! We got home and there it was. Harry told me that Dobby stuttered on and on about his bad masters and a plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts! I swear Malfoy, if you had a hand in this… If… If my sister doesn't… Well, if that happens, I _will_ let Harry strangle you!"

"What _diary_?" Draco asked in outrage. "What in Merlin's name are you _bloody_ Gryffindors talking about?"

Before he had a chance to pull out his wand, Weasley advanced on him with great loping strides and grabbed his collar, digging the raised wand tip into his already sensitive neck. "Think about it, you stupid _fucking_ ponce! _Your_ elf warns Harry about a plot, and then he goes mad and starts to beat himself! _You-Know-Who's _magical diary just _happens_ to appear in my sister's cauldron after _your_ father handles her books! And then, Ginny gets possessed by You-Know-Who, the previous Heir of Slytherin! That's when people start dying! Between you and me, we _both_ know that your father was a supporter. He's been hiding the diary all this time, has he? What did he do? Keep it in Gringotts? Keep it in the house disguised as a _treasured_ family heirloom or some other _pureblood_ tripe that's sure to last? You can bet your arse I'll be telling my dad to conduct a few raids of your manor, Malfoy. I wonder what other interesting… _items_… they might find."

Draco sneered at him. "Blow it out your arse, Weaselby! My father doesn't involve me in any of his affairs."

Weasley threw him unceremoniously to the floor. "You know what, Malfoy? I don't quite care one _tossing_ fuck! You're one and the same in my book. Just get out and don't come back you slimy son-of-a-shite! _Expulso!_"

The blowback from the spell hit Draco squarely in the chest and he skidded across the floor on the flat of his back. Humiliated and wheezing, he clambered to his feet and was just about to fire off a stinging hex… when the door to the Hospital Wing swung open.

Standing outside the threshold was none other than the Headmaster. Regarding the scene with amusement, the old man strode forward and mused whimsically, "I must say, this is a rather tense atmosphere, is it not? Perhaps some cheerful decorative headgear will lighten things up." Dumbledore pulled out his wand and gave it a flourish. With a noise like a firecracker, a great cloud of sparkling purple smoke exploded from its tip. The smoke quickly filled the room and when it finally cleared Draco found that several large, purple, sparkling, party-hats had appeared upon all of their heads, including those of the smoky ghost, the petrified Brown girl, and the Headmaster himself. Professor Dumbledore chuckled and waved Draco on his way, shouting out the door that the hat would only come off when he truly felt cheerful.

Forgetting about the library and dreading his walk of shame through the common room, Draco returned to the Slytherin dungeons. Thankfully, only Pansy, Goyle, and a lone seventh year were there to see him in his present state. Pansy raised an eyebrow, her mask of indifference not wavering an inch. Goyle chuckled stupidly, but was silenced with Draco's glare. The seventh year was far too interested in a bottle of Firewhiskey to even notice him. He trouped past them and shuffled quietly down the staircase to the second-year boys' dorm. Once inside, he collapsed onto his four-poster and drew the curtains.

"Bloody Dumbledore," he muttered angrily. "Bloody Weasley. Bloody Longbottom. Bloody…"

He couldn't finish the thought out loud. It just sounded wrong in his head.

Draco sighed heavily and, for the very first time, seriously considered Weasley's words.

_What diary? A family heirloom? Father doesn't keep-_

He sat bolt upright in bed as the memory of his day with Pansy in the Manor's library last summer flooded back to him.

_Great-Grandfather's journal… It was missing! Father… Father wouldn't have… _

As Draco recalled the various occasions he had heard his father and Mr. Parkinson making plans to rid Hogwarts of Dumbledore, he placed his head in his hands, the repercussions of the possible crime whirring across his mind.

Five Aurors and a Hogwarts Staff member were dead. Weasley Senior was surely going to raid the Manor. What if there were documents? What if there were letters? If anyone were ever to directly link the deaths to the Malfoy family, no amount of gold would be enough to save his father from the Dementor's kiss or their family name from eternal shame.

The curtains around the bed parted and Pansy slinked in, wearing nothing but a pair of pink knickers and one of his school shirts. She lay down next to him, stretched like a cat, and muttered, "You're back far sooner than we planned, Draco."

Draco's eyes immediately fell to her lovely curves. "Did you walk through the common room like that?"

"Of course I didn't," she snapped primly. "Don't be ridiculous… Although, I suppose you can't help it while wearing that hat." She straddled his waist and tugged at the pointed cone atop his coiffed hair.

"Don't bother," Draco drawled in an annoyed voice, pushing her off his lap. "It's Dumbledore's handiwork. It won't come off until I'm _'truly cheerful'_ or some such nonsense."

Pouting sexily, Pansy slowly popped open her shirt's three topmost buttons and pushed out her large partially-revealed chest. "I can help with that, you know."

"Can you?" asked Draco derisively. "Can you help me help my father avoid the Dementor's kiss?"

Pansy frowned, straightened, and buttoned up the shirt. "Thank you, darling, for effectively killing the mood."

"No problem," muttered Draco morosely.

Pansy slung a leg over his thighs and pressed her warm body into his side. "I assume you didn't go to the library as planned?"

Draco shifted and looked away, knowing his eyes would betray his guilt.

She sighed heavily. "I see. You went to visit Potter in the Hospital wing. I knew you would."

Draco jumped in surprise. "How did-"

Pansy scoffed. "Oh please, Draco. Ever since she woke up you've had this antsy look on your face like a toddler that needs to urinate."

He smiled at the crude analogy. "Nothing gets past you, I suppose?"

Pansy shrugged and said superiorly, "Rarely."

"I'm… sorry."

Pansy frowned, trailing her fingertips down his chest. "Don't lie to me, Draco. I know you aren't. And I've… gotten used to it."

Draco tried to tilt her chin upwards for a kiss, but she angrily pushed away his hand. "Don't think for a second that by 'gotten used to it' I mean that I accept it! Tell me _exactly_ what happened between Potter and yourself, or so help me, Draco, I will murder you here and now. And after that, you can tell me why you were punished with that ridiculous hat."

"Nothing like that happened! We talked and then she tried to strangle me! When I told Har-"

Her nails dug painfully into his skin.

"Erm… When I told _Potter_ that Dobby belonged to me, she got violent. Then, after hitting me like a brawling muggle, she figured out that my father is somehow at the heart of this entire Chamber of Secrets situation. Potter lost her mind and succeeded in strangling me to death's door. I now owe Longbottom a life debt. Weaselby realized what Potter figured out. He applied his usual Weaselby charm to the situation, so I whipped out my wand for a little payback. Dumbledore walked in… and thus… hats."

Pansy sat up and pushed away from him in mock disgust. "You owe _Longbottom_ a life debt? I can't marry a man indebted to a Longbottom!"

Draco growled. "Is that all you took away from that?"

Pansy tutted and made to leave, but Draco caught her wrist. "Stop playing with me. I'm in over my head here. If Potter goes public with an accusation, no amount of gold will stop an inquisition. I have reason to believe that your father is involved as well. Five Aurors are _dead._ That means Veriteserum, Pansy. If our fathers _are_ guilty, which I suspect they are, then they'll be kissed on the spot. The family names will be in tatters."

Pansy scooted back to him and laid her head squarely upon his chest. She popped open the top three buttons of her shirt once more and took hold of his hand. She slowly guided his fingers down into the neck of her white cotton shirt to the hard bud atop her breast. "Then you'll just have to give her something she wants to assure her silence, Draco."

He slowly slid his thumb around her nipple. "I highly doubt she wants anything of me."

"You'll just have to think of… of… oh fuck…" Pansy gasped in pleasure and she flipped over to straddle his waist. Draco hastily undid the remaining buttons of her shirt and her ample breasts swung free.

The purple party-hat toppled from his head.

Tugging at the buttons of his shirt, Pansy smirked and whispered huskily, "Well that's a nice boost to my confidence… not that I needed one."

"Of course," said Draco, pulling her down for a hungry kiss, his fingers sliding into the waistline of her lacy knickers.

Pansy caught his hand. "Oh, no. You're being punished for going to see Scarhead."

Draco sighed resignedly. "What do I have to do this time?"

She pinched his arm and said with chastising tone, "_Excuse me?_ You forgot the proper form of address, _manservant_."

He glowered at her and muttered slowly, "What do I have to do this time, _Mistress?"_

Pansy stuck her wand outside of the curtains and he heard the wireless flick on. As a slow, bluesy tune streamed through the room, she picked up the purple hat and replaced it on his head. "Stand up, dance, and strip."

"You _can't_ be serious," he groaned. "I've had enough torment for one day."

"Oh? This is _torment_, is it?" Pansy began re-buttoning her shirt.

Draco flushed bright red, but grabbed her hands. "Alright… Mistress."

Pansy purred, leaned forward, and snogged him thoroughly, before slapping his arse and pushing him off her body. She folded her arms, waiting expectantly with a wide grin on her face.

"I hate you, Pans."

Pansy winked coyly and reached down. Ever so slowly, she slid her knickers to her knees, allowing him a full view of her gorgeous body. With a breathy grunt, she dipped her fingers into her sex and half-moaned half-crooned, "No, you don't."

He sat back down, crawled on top of her, and softly kissed her full lips. "No… I suppose I don't."

At breakfast the following morning, Draco received a very short note from a standard school owl that left him staring around the Great Hall in suspicion, thinking it was perhaps a prank to get him caught out of bounds.

_Midnight. Trophy room. Be there._

He thought he knew who it was from. He _had_ just read an exorbitant amount of her writing yesterday, even though that had been messy and this was neat.

_But how can it be from her? She can't even walk. _

Draco wrote the letter off as a poor prank and put it out of his mind for the remainder of the day.

But when Pansy fell asleep that night, twenty minutes before twelve, the temptation became too great to resist. He crept out of the dorm with some sleeping dust and his Hand of Glory. After the Watcher let him pass, he made his way up the winding stairs to the first floor. Thankfully, there were only two Aurors stationed in the short distance between the dungeons and the Trophy room. With his Hand of Glory raised high, he tossed the small powder ball out from the shadows. It rolled down the corridor to the feet of the two men. Raising his wand, Draco whispered beneath his breath, _"Finite."_

The ball popped open, releasing a plume of white dust that caused the two Aurors to slowly sink to the floor for a full minute of restful sleep. Hopefully they wouldn't be killed in the thirty seconds he would not be watching them. He dashed past their bodies, bolted down the long corridor, and rushed into the dark hall containing the thousands of pointless awards and medals won by various students throughout the millennium.

She was already there, leaning against the wall by the lone window upon which they had sat during their last midnight meeting.

Draco's heart flopped awkwardly as he approached. The frailty that had plagued her posture the previous day was non-existent; her former fluid grace returned in full. She still looked dreadful… but that one difference changed her appearance entirely. She looked ragged and broken and starved and grimy… but the hopelessness in her eyes was gone. Harry was back.

"How'd you get the hat off, then?" asked Draco, trying his best to smile convincingly.

She didn't answer.

"You're looking better," he continued cautiously, sidling up beside her.

Harry glared at him, her eyes perfectly green once more. When she spoke, her slightly squeaky voice rang clear and true, albeit rather heatedly. "_Yes._ Apparently, murderous rage and accidental magic do wonders for the body. I suppose you'd like to be thanked, right, Draco? Would you like one of these shiny medals for your role in promoting slavery and the deaths of six innocent people?"

Draco opened his mouth to angrily protest, but he promptly forgot what to say as her wand flew out of her sleeve in the blink of an eye to dig painfully into his cheek.

"Give me a single reason not to do it," whispered Harry venomously. "Voldemort and his ilk took my family away from me! They're most likely about to kill the most important person in my life, if she's not already dead!" She quickly withdrew the wand from his cheek and pointed it at a glass case. Inside it was a large shield-shaped plaque that read:

**Awarded to Tom Riddle**

_For special services to the school._

Harry's fierce gaze never once left his face as she hissed angrily, _"Incendios Grata!"_

Draco flinched away as a truly massive column of golden flame, hotter than magma, erupted from the tip of her wand. It shot across the room, pouring hungrily over the glass case and the wall behind it. When Harry canceled the spell rather abruptly, Draco's eyes bulged. Within seconds, the case and plaque had been reduced to nothing. Not even ash remained. The stone wall itself was deformed and glowing a deep molten red.

Harry breathed out shakily and returned her wand to Draco's cheek. He could still feel a residual scorching heat upon its tip… but he didn't cry out. If he could help it, he wasn't going to cower in front of her like yesterday.

Harry's emerald eyes were flashing with rage, but it wasn't the demonic rage she had exhibited in the Hospital wing. It was a cool simmering fury that was less terrifying, yet every bit as threatening. Baring her teeth, she leaned forward and growled into Draco's face, "I have the power to do it! I have a just cause! I'm begging you; give me one _single_ reason not to incinerate you, Draco! They're _killing_ my family. Tell me why I shouldn't kill their families in return? Tell me why I shouldn't kill their _pompous_, _bigoted_, _sons?"_ She ground the wand into his cheek to painfully accentuate her every word.

Draco didn't know how to answer that question. She was entitled, he supposed, especially after everything that had happened to her this year. But he _had_ to think of a reason... because dying wasn't an option until he had produced an heir. Apart from his father, he was the last descendent that carried the Malfoy name.

_Perhaps just being blunt?_

"I don't have a reason," Draco whispered. "You deserve revenge, but… I don't want to die. I want to live and be with Pansy. I want to see her face every day. I want to see _your_ face every day."

"_Wrong answer,"_ Harry whispered in reply, angry tears springing from the corners of her eyes. "You don't _deserve_ to live! You shouldn't have been born in the first place! Ron told me all about what your dad used to do to muggles. You're the spawn of an evil man that should've died a long time ago!"

Harry pushed him down to his knees and leveled her wand at his face.

"Harry," he reasoned quietly, refusing to beg. "I came tonight… I came because… because I feel guilty! I'm not even fighting back! I can help you find her! I can… I can…"

Harry hit him with a powerful stinging hex that left his body twitching when she released it. "I don't care that you feel _guilty_! I DON'T CARE! You're a horrible person, just like your father! _Goodbye,_ Draco Malfoy! Maybe, in the next life, you'll be that nice boy I met in the robe shop to everyone."

Her fist visibly tightened on the handle of her wand.

Draco shut his eyes tight, unable to stare his death in the face; unable to stare at _her_ face while she killed him.

But just like the day before... the blow never came.

_Is she having another flashback?_

After an excruciatingly long pause, Draco cautiously opened an eye and squinted up at her.

Harry looked absolutely _terrified_. The wand in her hand was trembling and she was staring down at it with wide, wet, disbelieving, eyes. Salty tear-trails covered the surface of her cheeks.

_She's more frightened and confused than I am!_

"_Harry," _he said cautiously, reaching for the wand. "Don't. Please don't. This… this isn't you."

Harry's expression of fearful anguish transformed into vengeful anger once more. She brandished the weapon in his face and screamed, "IT _FEELS_ LIKE ME!"

"But… it's not," mumbled Draco. "You're good… and _kind_… and… and loving."

The girl towering above him scoffed and growled out, "Loving? _LOVING?_ Well, _I hate you_, Draco. Even more now, considering what your father did."

Draco flinched as her words cut far deeper than they should have, but he stared up into her angry glare head on, baring all the turmoil he felt in his heart whenever he thought about her. "I know you hate me, Harry. I know you hate me and it _kills_ me. It… It kills me because I've loved you ever since you first smiled at me in the shop! Since I'm going to die, now seemed like a good time to say it."

Harry's eyes went wide and her mouth started to open and close listlessly. Gradually, the wand in his face began to fall, but the moment his gaze left her face to follow the movement of the width of holly, she growled, dug the sturdy stick back into his cheek, and shouted tearfully, "WELL, _YOU_ DON'T GET TO HAVE ME! _YOU_ GET TO DIE JUST LIKE MY PARENTS!"

As Harry stood over him, breathing heavily and retraining her wand to the center of his forehead, Draco momentarily forgot that she was on the verge of killing him. Her hair was whipping about her head in gusts of wind from her accidental magic. Her green eyes were blazing with the fire that had yet to leave her wand. She was so beautiful; terrifying, yet beautiful; beautiful even when she looked broken. A part of him wanted nothing more than to knock the wand away and ravish her… but that would surely result in his death.

Harry fixed him with a steely glare and asked slowly, "Last words?"

Draco quickly focused on the girl's shiny patent leather shoes before she realized that he was undressing her with his eyes. "Listen, I suppose we are on different sides, but I'm your _friend._ I always will be. I couldn't not be, even if I wanted to, because I love you so damn much that it hurts. Don't do this. Don't destroy yourself. You're… You're not a killer, Harry!"

The words, even though he said them in uncertainty, somehow broke a hole in her fury. Her wand arm began to shake violently and, in a pained voice, she muttered, "But… I… _they took her_, Draco. _He_ took her and I… I…" Shutting her eyes in teary confusion, Harry shook her head and yelled out fiercely, "You say I'm _not_ a killer, but you and yours are constantly making me want to be one!"

"Yeah, well, you're still not." Bravery outweighing his common sense for the first time in his thirteen and a half years, Draco reached up abruptly and plucked the shaft of wood from her shaky grip.

Harry gasped weakly as her weapon was taken away from her. She stared down at her empty hands in shock. Intense anguish flashed across her delicate features and, with a distressed wail of misery, she sank to her knees. Draco caught her as she fell forward. Holding her tightly to his chest, he gently whispered, "You're really not, Harry."

The raven-haired girl leaned back and clutched tightly at his shirt collar. Eyes shimmering with grief, she cried out somberly, "Why_ h-her_? WHY? ANSWER ME! Why did they t-take her from me?"

Draco remained silent. He could tell from the breakdown that _this_ was the real root of all her anger.

"Why _me_?" Harry whispered, pawing lightly at his chest. "I want my mum and dad back, Draco! I want Ginny back!"

Draco reached up and tentatively touched her cheek with his fingers, hoping against hope that she didn't explode in rage. "I'm sorry," he mumbled honestly, not knowing exactly what he was apologizing for, but feeling like it was still the right thing to do. When he brushed his thumb beneath her eyes, wiping away the little trails of water, she looked up at him pathetically with her glasses askew. Her eyes were puffy and the sheen of moisture covering the sparkling pools of emerald made the whole thing even more gut-wrenchingly painful to witness.

"Give her back to me," moaned Harry softly, her full pink lips settling in a natural pout. "_Please_."

Resisting the sudden urge to lean forward and kiss her, Draco turned his head away and said sadly, "You know I can't. But… I would if I could, Harry."

A fresh wave of heaving sobs burst forth from the already steadily weeping girl. She released his shirt and curled up, putting her head down to the floor. Draco sat next to her awkwardly as she physically expressed a substantial amount of grief that she had clearly been keeping bottled-up. It was odd to be sitting next to one of the supposed most powerful witches alive as they cried their eyes out; to be the source of comfort for the 'Savior of the Wizarding World.' At the moment, Harry looked like nothing more than a small anguished child.

_That's what she is though, isn't she?_

Breath catching in his throat, Draco hesitantly reached out and placed his arm around her shoulders. When she didn't react, he safely assumed that it was alright.

It took an age, but eventually, Harry's sobs abated and her chest stopped heaving. Draco stood up and stretched awkwardly. "Well, I never thought I'd see _that_ happen right in front of me. Not in a million years."

Harry choked on what sounded to Draco like another sob, but when she raised her head from the ground and brushed back her hair to wipe her eyes, he saw that she had a small smile on her face.

_Rage, tears, laughter._ _This girl can switch at the bloody speed of light. If Pansy attempted something like that… Well, it would certainly be a comical sight to see._

"You know," said Harry earnestly from her spot on the floor. "I didn't ask you here so I could pull a wand on you. I just saw you swaggering like your father and I got caught up in the moment."

"Your moments are a bit frightening," drawled Draco, handing her back her wand.

Harry laughed dryly. "Yeah… so it would seem. But… I… I don't think that's entirely my fault anymore. You saw my eyes yesterday." She pointed at her scar. "Dumbledore basically told me that those were probably _his_ eyes... peeking through."

Draco fiddled nervously with his shirt, finding conversation of the Dark Lord to be particularly distressing. "Why _did_ you ask me here anyway? For a moonlit session of romance?"

He was a bit pleased to see that she flushed at the jibe despite her rather horrible mood.

"Erm… _no_," said Harry slowly, looking pointedly away from him. "I came to say… Well, I want you to set Dobby free after you tell your father everything that I know. I don't want to break up your family, Draco, even if your father _does_ deserve to rot away in prison for the rest of his life. Tell him that if Ginny survives, I'll keep silent about the diary in exchange for Dobby's freedom and safety. Oh and Mr. Weasley is most likely getting ready to raid your mansion, so I'd send word home quickly if I were you."

Draco frowned. "What if she doesn't survive? What if she's already dead?"

Harry stood and picked up her invisibility cloak. "If Ginny dies, Draco, then I want you to take Pansy and run; leave the country and don't stop running until you're in a place I've never heard of. If I lose her, I won't hesitate to take that step into the dark. For her, I'll burn everything your father has ever loved right in front of his eyes before I kill him... and that includes you if you stick around. You see, I… I don't actually want your blood on my hands."

"Oh?" drawled Draco in mock amusement. "You seemed pretty intent on having just that a few minutes ago."

"About that," mumbled Harry, unfolding the cloak. "Like I said, I'm upset and you closely resemble _two_ of the few people I truly hate: your father and Piers Polkiss. It's easy to put you in their places when I'm angry."

In a moment of weakness, Draco reached out, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her close, tangling his fingers into the hair at the back of her neck. With their lips mere inches apart, he whispered to her bitterly, "So I should look forward to more of this? I'm _not_ my father, you know, even if we do look and act alike."

"Get off of me!" snapped Harry bitingly, tearing herself away from his body. "Y-You don't get to touch me!"

Draco grinned. Even though she had quickly placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away, the effort had seemed half-hearted. She clearly wanted to be with someone, but Draco knew that it wasn't going to be him. It probably never _would_ be.

Harry's angry expression slowly fell from her face as she draped the cloak around her shoulders. She grasped the hood to flip it over her head… but paused and gave him a look that made him feel like his body was transparent. In a pained voice, Harry said quietly, "I know you're not your father. That's why I couldn't do it, Draco. I couldn't kill you, because as much as I detest everything that you are and everything that you stand for, I liked you when we met in Diagon Alley. That boy deserves to live. I really miss him. If he wasn't such a bigoted smarmy bastard on the outside, then I could… I could…"

Draco raised an eyebrow as she muttered something under her breath. "Sorry," he drawled casually while his gut was performing nervous flips. "I didn't catch that. You could what?"

Harry glared at him, turned down the hood, and disappeared from sight.

He heard her black patent shoes clicking softly against the stone as she walked away and he stared at the door sullenly as it opened, seemingly of its own accord.

And then… just before the heavy door swung shut… he distinctly heard Harry's voice echo back down the length of the Trophy room. His eyes widened when her departing words finally sank into his brain.

"_I could probably love him."_

Feeling stunned and thoroughly exhausted, Draco walked to the window and placed his forehead against the chilly glass for a quick slap to his senses. To his eyes, the castle grounds looked quite barren in the last throes of winter. The crescent moon lit up the entire scene. It seemed extraordinarily bright in the sky as it cast the lake into stark vibrant detail. He could actually see the Giant Squid lazily waving its tentacles high above the water's twinkling surface.

_Then... I suppose things are looking up… given the circumstances._

0000

0000

0000

0000

Albus stared vacantly at the ticking pendulum upon his desk as his mind wandered freely about the castle, searching for any magical signature that would point him to the entrance of Salazar's hidden chamber. It had been a month since he had learned of Tom's diary from Harry's mind. It had been a month since he had discovered and delivered the petrified blackened spirit of Myrtle Mathers to the Hospital wing. It had been a month since he fully realized the terrifying genius of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

For the first time in his many long years, he found himself at a complete loss in a truly devastating situation. Even after Arianna had died and Gellert had left, he was still able to pick up the pieces and move forward; to take some form of action that would smooth and calm the chaos.

At the moment, he was in 'Check' and one wrong move would lead to 'Checkmate.' Yet all his moves seemed futile. Even if he were to discover the location, what action could he take? His opponent was a small possessed child and everything he could think of would most assuredly lead to the Weasley girl's death; a death that would drive young Harry over the edge and into the dark, with or without the assistance of her Petrifying Dream.

Harry was another problem entirely. The appearance of a likeness of Tom Riddle in her mind had severely complicated the matter. He had faith that the volatile, tortured, yet innately good daughter of Lily and James would always return to the path of righteousness. But faith wasn't enough this time. Her excruciatingly vivid dream, combined with the weight of the prophecy and Gellert's not so subtle threat, had him extremely unsettled. He had to make absolutely sure that she walked solely within the light, or the consequences would be most dire indeed.

Albus had his theories as to how it had all happened. He had long ago scoured the library for an explanation regarding Tom's snake-like appearance when he came looking for a position at the school. He had done so again when Gellert touched upon the idea that rituals were used to further the Dark Lord's power. The possibilities he discovered were many and all of them quite horrible. There were a generous number of rituals that could account for all of it: Tom's attachment to life after his physical death and his less than human appearance, the diary, and Harry's ability to channel the Dark Lord. The most ominous of the lot all involved unspeakable acts of self-mutilation such as soul-splitting, runic flesh inscriptions, or corrupting mind-fragments. Albus clung to a sliver of hope that not even Tom had gone to such lengths in his quest for power.

A knock at the door brought him out of the Astral-state and back to his body. He easily recognized the bright magical core of the knocking visitor. With a wave of his hand, the ancient doors unlocked and swung inward. "You may enter, Harry."

Harry shuffled in and Albus couldn't hold back a smile. She was looking so much healthier.

"H-Hello, sir," said the girl nervously, even though her stride was confident.

Albus drew his wand and with a small wave, he conjured a comfy pink armchair on the other side of the desk and gestured for her to sit. "Good evening to you, Harry. How are you feeling?"

Harry raised her shoulders in a small shrug and sat down. "As good as I can be, sir. Although I've… I've been talking to myself to make it seem like she's still with…"

He nodded sadly as the recently tight-lipped girl closed her mouth after realizing that she had said far more than she had apparently wished to say. "I see. Not unusual in the least, Harry. Now… to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Um… Well, I wanted to ask you if I could…" Harry trailed off, shaking her head lightly so that a mass of her wild hair fell into her eyes. She clearly did not want him looking directly into her thoughts.

However, he didn't need his rather vast skills as a Legilimens to know what she wanted to ask. The girl, refusing to attend lectures, had spent the last two weeks tearing through every history book and bestiary in the library, searching for anything that would give her information on basilisks, the construction of the school, the four founders, and the legendary secret chamber. Albus ran his fingers through his beard and wheezed, "You wished to ask me for access to the Restricted Section?"

Harry jumped in surprise, but nodded anxiously as her face turned a bright shade of pink.

Despite his reluctance to allow her into a section filled with magics that he desperately wanted to keep her from, he _couldn't_ allow her to give up hope… and a refusal was sure to cause just that. Albus sighed. "Would you care for some tea, Harry?"

"O-Oh," she stammered. "Al-Alright, sir. Thank you."

He waved his wand once more and the tea set from his quarters on the second floor flew down to hover above the desk. Plucking a Lemon Drop out of the little cup beside the self-pouring teapot, he plopped it into one of the newly filled teacups. After a comforting sip, he gave his answer. "Free use is normally limited to sixth-years and above … and only then with special dispensation, yet I won't refuse your request, Harry. I must warn you, however, that the Restricted Section is restricted for a most _legitimate_ reason. Although I have never had the inclination to know just what it was that you were looking for in the Library over last year's holidays, I believe you discovered that legitimate reason for yourself. Am I correct?"

Harry shuffled nervously, but nodded.

"Then do take caution, Harry. Knowledge is not something to be taken lightly." Albus waved his wand once more. A quill jumped out of the desk drawer and burst into motion, scrawling out his permission on a piece of parchment.

The green-eyed girl uncaringly gulped the scalding hot tea and took the note graciously. "Thank you, sir! I'll… I'll find something!"

"I sincerely hope that you do, Harry."

As she dashed from his office, the heavy frown Albus had been holding back in Harry's presence surged into place. There was nothing in the Library's Restricted Section that would help them find the Chamber. He had searched every inch of it himself. Twice. He only hoped that Harry wouldn't fall into a state of despair when she too came to the same conclusion.

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Harry dashed into the Library and slammed the Headmaster's note down upon the ledge of Madam Pince's kiosk. The stern librarian eyed the note with apprehension and said, "I had a feeling I'd be seeing that sooner or later. Very well, Miss Potter. Follow me, please." She strode off towards the stairs and Harry quickly followed.

_Finally! I'll find you, Gin. I promise. Don't… Just don't give up._

Madam Pince tapped the gate with her wand and allowed Harry to enter. "Very rarely has a student of your age been granted unrestricted access, Miss Potter. I will be returning every fifteen minutes to check on you. Honestly… I don't know what that man is thinking letting a second-year…" Shaking her head in disbelief, Madam Pince trailed off, closed the gate behind Harry, and walked away.

Harry turned and nervously looked around at the twelve large bookshelves that made up the Restricted Section.

_Here we go._

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Irma Pince moped quietly about the Transfiguration section, replacing returned books. Her days had been decidedly bleak since Argus was murdered. She no longer found joy in hunting down students that were using the Library for recreational purposes. She no longer placed nasty spells on the books to make sure they were returned in time. It had all been for him and it seemed so pointless now. She had done so much to please him; to make him feel loved.

She fondly remembered the days of their youth. He had been most handsome before old age crashed down upon him. His strong jaw and winning smile had caused countless young women, including 'Ugly-Icky-Irma,' to fall madly for him as he merrily tidied up the castle by hand. But he had married young and she had only ever been able to love the kind man from afar. When his unearthly beautiful wife died giving birth to their half-Veela child, she had watched him fall into despair. She had watched in anguish as his warm smile turned to a stale grimace; watched as he transformed from a confident young man, despite his lack of magical ability, into an insecure angry wretch that would hang children by their thumbs in detention when they called him a squib. In what felt like no time at all, his beauty was gone and his vast number of admirers fell to a lonely number of one. Ugly-Icky-Irma could still see the handsome man inside his wrinkled and angry shell.

But now he was gone and she felt empty. She had let her entire life pass by in a dusty library as she pined for him, trying to find common ground by terrorizing the students.

"It was all for nothing," she whispered bitterly, flicking her wand to send a large pile of heavy tomes to the very top of the shelf. "Absolutely noth-"

A deafening shriek of agony drowned out her angry mutter, echoing down off the Library's vast arched ceiling five floors above her head.

_That sounds like…_

Her frightened gaze drifted upwards towards the Restricted Section.

_That sounds exactly like Potter! _

Irma dashed towards the stairs as quickly as her rather weak legs could carry her, hoping that the small book-loving student that she had come to respect would not be dead by the time she got there.

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Harry was getting frustrated as she scanned row after row, dragging her hand along the many fading book spines. Not a single title on the six shelves that she had already searched indicated that the pages within contained anything remotely useful to her.

In the three hours she had spent browsing through the Restricted Section, she had learned rather quickly that she could merely look at the titles to discover the contents of the book. Wizards always seemed to be rather blunt with their titles. In books like 101 Spells to Disembowel Your Enemies and Magick Most Evile, she found exactly what the title suggested… along with some _truly_ gruesome images.

In the first hour of actually reading the books, she stumbled upon a charming little number named The Book of Babayaga sitting innocently on the bottom row of the second shelf. After nearly having her hand bitten off by the legendary hag that was _literally_ trapped inside the pages, she stopped opening anything that didn't have a promising title.

Harry gagged as her finger dipped into a puddle of sticky red liquid that was oozing from a thick book titled The Litany of Lady Carmilla Sanguina- The Beauty Who Bathed in the Blood of Brazil. Hurriedly wiping her finger on her skirt, Harry skipped past an entire three rows of blood-soaked books that quite clearly dealt only with Vampires and obscure blood-magic rituals.

Halfway through the other side of the seventh shelf, judging by the multitude of black books with titles along the lines of The Dead Walk and A Guide to Creating an Undead Army, Harry was inclined to believe that the rest of the shelf was dedicated solely to Necromancy and decided to move on to the eighth. Her theory was unfortunately confirmed as soon as she turned away to start on the next section. Several decayed hands shot out from the spines of the books on the bottom row, grabbing at Harry's ankles. They latched on, pulling her down to the floor with impossible strength.

As the grimy arms tangled around Harry's legs and began to tug her back toward the shelf, she had the most horrible feeling of nightmarish déjà vu. She was so unreasonably terrified in that moment that she momentarily forgot one crucial detail about herself.

A scattering of freckles and a long braid of cherry-red hair flashed across her mind's eye… and then… she remembered.

"I'm a bloody witch!" Harry brandished her wand in a small half-circle and growled angrily, _"Relashio!"_

The many rotting hands released her with loud snapping sounds as every single dead finger was broken and bent backwards at an unnatural angle. Harry scrambled away across the stone, retreating to the base of the shelf behind her as her heart pounded wildly against her chest.

It was only after the last grasping hand had retreated dejectedly back into its book, that Harry was able to calm herself and catch her breath.

That was when she heard them.

That was when she heard the whispers.

They soothed her soul like the softest of sighs and the happiest of hums, washing away all her worries and fears.

Confused and feeling slightly dazed, Harry stood and walked tentatively around to the other side of the eighth shelf. As if it was a magnet, her gaze was immediately drawn to the source of the inviting voices.

Three green books were sitting at eye level in the middle of the shelf. For a fleeting hazy moment, Harry had the strangest idea that these three books were dangerous; that someone had warned her to stay away... but…

'_But that's utter nonsense,'_ said a quiet reassuring voice in her mind._ 'How could such welcoming whispers come from a dangerous book?'_

Harry agreed, cast off the ludicrous idea, and strode toward them, blatantly ignoring the nagging inkling in her mind that something was terribly wrong; that there was something she was being forced to forget; that she desperately needed to wake up.

When she stopped directly in front of the three books, the whispers became clear.

"_**Harry. You misss her. We can give her to you. Jusst… open uss."**_

_Ginny? That would be nice. I miss her._

"_**Your parentss live. We can sshow you the way…"**_

_Really? They're alive? That's great!_

"_**Love iss yourss. Open uss… and take it."**_

_Ginny says she loves me… but she's gone now. Can you really bring her back? _

"_**Of coursse we can. You wissh to know the location of SSalazar'ss Chamber, do you not? The ssecret liess within our pagess. Jusst… open uss."**_

Harry smiled happily and reached out to take the three books off the shelf.

As soon as her fingers touched the leather covers, a searing unholy pain burst through her body. Her skin began to twist. Her flesh began to slide and slither across her bones. Hundreds of tiny white-hot knives sank into her skin two at a time. It was agony. She screamed and screamed and screamed until she could scream no more.

And then…

The pain was gone.

Harry was standing completely unharmed next to the shelf with the four books in her arms, exactly as she had been moments ago... except the whispers were gone.

Harry flipped open the cover of the first and oldest looking book.

Its pages were blank.

Scoffing incredulously, she flipped through the second and the third.

Blank.

The fourth, which had binding that looked brand new, was the last chance for these useless books to redeem themselves. Harry opened it and fanned through its pages.

All blank.

Roughly stuffing the books back onto the shelves, Harry muttered disdainfully, "That's just _delightful_; truly _classy._ Empty books that are spelled to tempt you, and then, when you open them, they make you hallucinate pain_. _Honestly… Fred and George can do better than-"

"MISS POTTER!" shouted a wheezing voice from a few aisles over. "MISS POTTER, WHERE ARE YOU?"

Harry stuck her head out around the corner of the shelf. She saw Madam Pince frantically searching the stacks on the other side of the room and called out to her nervously, "Erm… I'm right here, Madam Pince. Is something wrong?"

The stern woman's vulture-like face fell slack. "Is… is… Of _course_ something is wrong! I heard your scream!"

Harry frowned. "Oh um… I must have screamed out loud. I picked up a few books and I'm faily sure they made me hallucinate that my body was being mutilated. There are some really nasty ones in here. Those Necromancy books almost got me."

Madam Pince's face reddened. "Y-You triggered the Memoirs of Mordred and _then_ went on to touch the Books of Slithering Pain?Oh for Merlin's sake… I cannot believe I let you roam unsupervised! Quick, child, get your wand out! We need to round up the memoirs at once. A good blast of fire works best, so have some flames at the ready. They'll be lurking all over the section now. I believe there are twenty in total."

Harry and Madam Pince spent the rest of the afternoon hunting down the nasty books that had indeed escaped from their row when she had followed the whispers. If she hadn't just been attacked by them, it would likely have been hilarious to see the books using their decaying fingertips to scurry away from the flames.

"Madam Pince?" called Harry as she chased a memoir that had crawled beneath a shelf. "Can I ask you a question?"

"If you must, child. If you must."

Harry shivered as the recollection of her muscles sliding around her bones swept over her. "Well, why keep harmful books like these around? Couldn't they just be destroyed?"

"No, Miss Potter, they cannot. After Salazar Slytherin destroyed the Library of old and fled from the school, the remaining founders enchanted the Library itself to place powerful regeneration charms upon any book that touches its shelves. If the original copy is destroyed, or if at any point its whereabouts are truly unknown by all living souls, the Library will create another in its stead. We keep books in the Restricted Section not only to limit the learning of dangerous magics, but also to prevent the production of multiple unwanted copies of the truly dangerous tomes."

"Er… right."

After they had finished, Madam Pince warned Harry soundly that she was not to spend time in the Restricted Section again unless accompanied by the librarian herself. The crotchety woman then proceeded to usher her out of the Library. Harry returned to the common room feeling dejected and slightly disgusted with magic in general. She would rather face Voldemort than go through the books on the first seven shelves a second time.

Ron swamped her as soon as she stepped through the portrait hole. "Find anything?" he asked avidly.

Harry frowned and sank down into an armchair across from the fire. "Apart from the acute urge to vomit? No… nothing."

Ron sat on the floor in front of Harry's chair and withdrew Scabbers from his shirt pocket. He pulled out his wand and proceeded to poke the fat little rat with the tip, most likely hoping to elicit some exciting magical reaction from his pet. "You'll find something, Harry. We'll get her back."

Harry kicked off her shoes and placed the soles of her feet on the back of Ron's jumper, softly running them up and down in a massaging motion. When Dumbledore had rolled Myrtle into the Hospital wing and explained the ghost's situation, she knew that Ron had given up and was putting on a show for both his mother's and Harry's sake. He never said it… but the little speck of irreparable hurt in his eyes gave him away entirely. The rest of the family, apart from Mrs. Weasley to whom Harry had gifted her charm bracelet when the woman offered to return it, all had that same little speck. She knew that as soon as Mrs. Weasley attempted to return the bracelet a second time, Harriet Lily Potter would be the only one left holding on to hope.

For Harry, giving up on Ginny just wasn't an option. Not until a resurrected Tom Riddle ascended from the Chamber. _If_ that happened, Harry had quietly decided that she would swiftly take her revenge on every single person responsible for Ginny's death, including, eventually, herself. She would snog Ron thoroughly and then apologize to Hermione for kissing Ron, after which she would hug her bushy-haired friend and give her blessing. She would thank the Weasleys, she would tell all of them and all of her friends that she loved them, and then, finally, she would return to Godric's Hollow.

She would go back to her little nursery, let go of her hope, and take the easy way out.

Harry didn't like thinking about it more than she had to. It wasn't something that she wanted to do. It was something that she _had_ to do. She knew that everyone was going to hate her for years after she did it, but when Professor Dumbledore hinted that some kind of afterimage of Voldemort was stuck inside her mind, just behind the seams of her consciousness, Harry knew that she would have to die along with Ginny. The Headmaster hadn't known if the afterimage, or in Ron's words, 'Harrymort,' was caused by the dream, or if it had always been there and had simply found a way out during her horrible journey down the Dark Lord's blazing trail of murder. In the end, it didn't really matter to her how the thing got there. The truth of the matter was that it was able to take control of her mind. And that had caused Harry to come to the inevitable conclusion that she would rather off herself than allow it to fully take control. She would rather off herself than let it make her hurt the people she loved and she was relatively positive that if she gave herself enough time to acknowledge the loss of Ginny, Harrymort would definitely be able to take over permanently.

Ron leaned back into her legs and yawned. "It's a good thing you're not coming to lectures, mate. Snape was bloody awful today."

Harry rapped her knuckles lightly against his head. "I really have no choice. I've missed so much. I'll have to study all summer and take the exams next year."

"Exams have been canceled," chimed Hermione dejectedly, seemingly popping out of thin air to plop down on the sofa next to Harry's armchair. "I'm _so_ disappointed. Studying is the only thing that has kept me going."

"Why are the only two girls that know all of the textbooks by heart so _concerned_ about studying?" grumbled Ron exasperatedly.

"Because it makes us angry when silly twats like Pansy Parkinson get grades equal to our own," replied Hermione a little too quickly.

Harry giggled, but Ron's mouth fell open in shock as the word 'twat' casually slipped off Hermione's tongue. "Mione," he said cautiously. "Did something happen with Parkinson today?"

Hermione folded her arms and mumbled grumpily, "I don't want to talk about it, Ronald."

Harry watched stonily as Ron reached out and patted Hermione's hand. The redhead was completely oblivious to the way their bushy-haired friend blushed profusely and the way her body tensed up when their skin made contact. It had been like this ever since Hermione had excitedly confessed to a literally speechless Harry that she had deciphered Ron's moaning after the Harrymort incident as 'What's wrong, Harry? Hermione. Toffee Apple.'

Harry had smiled and nodded at her giddy friend's absolutely tactless news, even when it had hurt so badly. She couldn't dwell on it though. Failing to be noticed in the right way by a somewhat clueless boy wasn't even remotely important when both Ginny's and her own future were on the verge of ending extremely early.

Harry sighed and got up. "I'm going to skip dinner and go up to bed. Wake me up if it happens."

Hermione jumped from whatever fantasy world she was ensconced in and Ron nodded his head without needing to ask if by 'it,' Harry meant confirmation of Ginny's death.

Every night for the past two weeks, Harry had made a point to avoid looking at the door to the room she had shared with Ginny while climbing the stairs to the second-year dorm. She had charged in the second she had been able to walk, only to find that all signs of their presence had been immaculately tidied and that her many scattered belongings had been sent back to her dorm. The only one that remained was Frances. Harry had complimented him on his newly grown branch, scratched the top of what she had long ago decided was the happy little plant's head, and quickly left the room, refusing to set foot in it again until Ginny could enter it with her.

Tiredly shuffling into the dorm, Harry entered the large bathroom and stripped down for the one real comfort she could always rely on. She turned to collapse into the tub, but froze as she caught a glimpse of her naked chest in the mirror.

Six pairs of angry red scars littered the area surrounding her left collarbone. The arrangement of the marks in rows made it look suspiciously like a bite.

"When the bloody hell did that happen?" she asked her reflection angrily while gingerly poking one of the raised bumps of scar tissue. "It wasn't there yesterday!" She shifted her hair, leaning forward to get a better look. "That's impossible! How could I not notice getting… bitten?"

Her reflection stared back at her quizzically, clearly just as puzzled as she was.

Harry grumbled in frustration. There was something important that she was forgetting. She was absolutely sure of it. It was nagging incessantly at the back of her mind and whenever she reached for it, it felt as if someone was teasingly tugging it away at the last second. It was so distracting that not even an hour-long bubble-bath was able to relax her.

Stiff and grumbling, Harry crawled into bed just as the sun began to drift behind the treetops of the Forbidden Forest. With a quiet sigh, she flipped the hourglass and immediately waded into her memory at the train station, leaving it solely up to her body to decide whether or not it would go to sleep.

Her heart wrenched painfully as Ginny sat down next to her in a huff; healthy, whole, and clutching the bag of cinnamon delights tightly to her chest. As her memory self went through the familiar motions, Harry couldn't stop thinking about how the redhead would appear after four and a half months alone with a young Voldemort. All the images of the tortured and mangled souls, whose pain she had felt first hand while trudging through the dream, came flooding back to her in painfully vivid relief. _"No,"_ Harry muttered, shutting her eyes tightly. "That didn't happen. She's fine. She's just... waiting."

"_Yes,"_ replied Ginny nastily, her voice dripping with unbridled sarcasm. "I'm sure she's _perfectly_ alright!"

"What do you know?" Harry asked in a bitter whisper. "You're not her! You're just a memory. You're just a… a…"

Her eyes snapped open in shock. Neither she nor Ginny should have been able to deviate from the events that occurred in the station and yet, here they were, doing exactly that. As she took in her surroundings, an overwhelming feeling of growing awareness seeped into her body like water on a dry sponge.

Something was terribly wrong with her happiest memory.

The station was…_ empty_. The bustling chaotic presence of life that she had become so familiar with had ceased to exist. The clerk peddling pasties in his gaudy booth… gone. The family of Swedish tourists that were frantically taking pictures with everyone and everything… gone. The homeless man that walked up and down Platform 6… gone. She ogled Ginny as another taste of sickening déjà vu swept over her. The redhead sitting on the bench beside her wasn't same girl she had been moments ago. She looked like her, smelled like her, and sounded like her… but she most definitely wasn't Harry's best friend. The girl sat cross-legged with the brown paper bag nestled in her lap; her amber gold-flecked eyes fixed on Harry in a cold spiteful glare_._

That was when she heard them.

That was when she heard the whispers.

Ginny sneered at her, reached into the bag, and, instead of a cinnamon, banana, and marshmallow sandwich, withdrew three, thick, dark-green books.

Harry jumped a foot in the air as the voices of three separate men spoke the same words at once.

"_**You sspeak becausse we wissh it to be sso. Now… remember."**_

Ginny opened the cover of the topmost book…

Harry awoke with a jolt, taking deep gulps of stuffy, unmoving, dust-plagued air as her rapidly pounding heart slowed to a steady thrum.

In her grogginess, it took her several minutes to realize how she came to be lying on the floor of the Restricted Section, cuddling the covers of three green books. With a great groan, Harry sat up, eyed the thick tomes nervously, and muttered to her aching head, "And _that's_ why they're in the Restricted Section; hallucinations of pain _within_ another day-long hallucination."

Harry prodded one of the books with her finger and let out a heavy sigh of relief when nothing happened.

_That was a bit too far out of reach for Fred and George, I suppose._

Assuming that she had escaped from the enchantment and that the whispering codices were now safe to open, Harry flipped open the hardcover with the newest binding, which still looked like it was decades old.

On the very first page was a beautiful moving illustration of a large green snake hanging from branches of a tree. Harry thought it looked vaguely like the Boa Constrictor she had set loose at the zoo, although it seemed to be several times bigger. Beneath the picture was a small caption of one simple word that she guessed was the snake's name.

Harry snickered at the book. "That's properly snake-like, that is. Bet whoever drew it took ages to come up with something like 'Nagini.'"

The snake looked up at her curiously when she said its name out loud, before slithering out of the frame. Quickly losing interest, Harry reached out to turn the page, but wrenched her hand away with a gasp as the book shuddered violently. She scrambled backwards from the quivering book, pulling out her wand.

A long drawn out hiss made the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up as it echoed throughout the Restricted Section. Harry's eyes bulged. The parchment inside the book ripped itself from the spine, floated upward to hover a foot from the ground, and rapidly began to rip and fold in midair.

Her mouth fell open in both horror and wonder when she realized that that the bits of paper were forming a pattern that looked identical to the scales of a snake. Within moments, an enormous python as thick as a lamppost had taken shape. It was a perfect replica of the snake in the illustration, complete with moving paper eyes and a forked tongue that darted out of its lipless mouth.

It fixed her with a beady stare and when it spoke, the voices of its hiss echoed about her mind in triple.

"_**Harriet Potter; desscendent of one; heiressss of two. Do you accept thiss legacy?"**_

Harry frowned. There was something dreadfully important that she was forgetting. It was nagging and nagging at the back of her mind. She backed slowly into the corner and hissed cautiously to the paper monster, "W-What do you mean? You said you would tell me where the Chamber is!"

"_**You wissh to ssave her, do you not? We can help. Jusst… accept."**_

If snakes could smirk, Harry had a feeling that this one would have done so. "Do you promise to help me?" she asked quietly.

The snake coiled in the air and reared its quaffle-sized head, swaying back and forth mesmerizingly. Judging by the gurgling crackle of paper that it was emitting, Harry got the extremely disturbing impression that it was giggling.

"_**The dead promisse nothing. Liess and truthss are meaninglessss. There iss only dessire and choice."**_

Harry remained silent as the snake twisted in midair, seemingly tying its body into knots, yet never once halting its movement to untangle them. She wanted nothing more than what the snake was offering and yet, she knew that somewhere… there was a catch.

Finally coming to a decision, she hissed in reluctant agreement, "I… I accept."

The snake hissed appreciatively.

There was a pressure in the air. It slowly began to build; building and building… until it burst. A large, green, newly-bound book, identical to the three she had pulled from the shelf, popped into existence in her lap.

The paper python began to coil faster and it hissed in excitement.

"_**Open the book."**_

Harry's fingers trembled as she lifted the leather from the parchment.

But the book was empty.

She opened her mouth to ask the snake what to do next… and her eyes widened in shock.

Something was _sliding_ its way up and out of her throat.

Harry gagged on her own breath, clutching at her neck as the sensation caused a sickening wave of nausea to wash over her. It wriggled past her tonsils. It slid over her tongue. She continued to gag even after it had slithered out of her mouth and down onto the pages of the book.

The small white snake was achingly familiar… but she couldn't remember _why_.

Harry jumped as the reptile melted onto the page like a stick of butter in a scorching pan. A portrait of the little thing appeared in its place, swimming up from the paper's depths. A caption scrawled itself across the bottom of the page in Harry's own handwriting.

"_Alice,"_ she read softly, running a finger down the length of the now two-dimensional snake as it coiled around the desk lamp in the picture.

Quite suddenly… her hands finally closed around all the memories that were being dangled just out of her reach. The sheen hanging over the Restricted Section was pulled away and Harry realized she was in two places at once. She was split down the middle; halfway between a train station and a library.

The paper snake cackled it crackling giggle. With a gasp, she raised her wand against the monster, but her target was in motion before she had cast a single spell. The enormous floating python lunged, baring its six pairs of inch-long fangs.

Surprisingly, Harry didn't feel what should have been an extremely painful bite.

Instead, she felt the acute sensation of falling through something icy-cold; of being sucked down through a swirling black whirlpool. Her landing was a tad jarring as she fell to an abrupt halt in an ungraceful heap, but that was nothing compared to how floored she felt when she realized where she was.

It was Professor McGonagall's transfiguration classroom except… _it_ _wasn't._

At the head of the class stood a man that looked exactly like Professor Dumbledore… yet it couldn't have been. His beard was a light fading red rather than a shining shade of silver. His face was somewhat wrinkled, yet it was still sprightly. This man was aging… but the Headmaster she knew was ancient.

What was odder still was that no one seemed to notice that she had just fallen from the ceiling. Harry got to her feet and tentatively waved her hand in the face of a blonde pigtailed girl.

She didn't even blink.

Harry sighed exasperatedly and jumped up and down, waving her hands in the air, yet not a single person in the entire class gave her actions a second glance. Frowning in confusion, she quickly sifted through her mental library of textbooks to find a possible explanation for whatever was happening. Surprisingly, she found one in a short passage from The Infinite Mind.

_In the simplest terms, Pensieves are vessels enchanted to pass fragments of the mind from one magic-user to another. Although they can be created in various forms, the most common and useful of the lot is the rune bowl. In 1268, Kelfred Worgle developed the first rune bowl in an effort to devise a method for memory fragments to be freely viewed outside of the mind. The runes around the edge of the bowl simulate the processes of imagination, thus eliminating the need for a living brain to create the images of the memory. Baser Pensieves of the unruned format simply allow the brain to recreate the memory in the viewer's head, which can lead to distortion of the actual events as they happen._

Before she came to the conclusion that she was inside a memory and indeed invisible to all eyes, she attempted to poke the pigtailed girl in the head, just to be safe. Her hand passed right through the blonde's skull.

"That's gross," Harry mumbled, feeling the need to wipe the nonexistent brain muck on her skirt before tuning in to the professor's lecture.

"-a gentle upwards flick. The incantation is _Incarcifors._ As one, class."

About half of the students raised their wands and mimicked the spell.

"Most excellent. Incarceration transfiguration is a useful tool when dueling in a cluttered space," said the Dumbledore lookalike to his somewhat attentive students. "Who can tell me why? Yes… Mr. Riddle."

"Because a stationary opponent is a weak opponent, sir," drawled a monotone voice at her elbow.

Harry's mouth fell open. Sitting directly to her left was a neat, handsome, dark-haired young man of perhaps fifteen or sixteen years of age. She didn't know for sure if it was Tom or not… but he had cold, expressionless, black eyes that looked exactly like Quirrell's. Even if this Riddle wasn't Voldemort… he was still probably a cruel bastard.

"Disadvantaged, Mr. Riddle. They are disadvantaged. Nonetheless, you are essentially correct. Ah… I do believe we are out of time. One roll of parchment explaining the laws governing the ten spells we discussed today will be due during our next class. And ten points to Slytherin, Mr. Riddle, for being the only one of my students that can bring themselves to volunteer information in the last class before the Holidays. Happy Christmas to all. Dismissed."

The man who she assumed really _was_ a younger Dumbledore waved the students off and disappeared into the adjoining chamber.

The boy named Riddle took far longer than the other students to gather his things. It looked to Harry like he was hanging behind, waiting for the rest of them to leave.

Harry followed the boy as he walked along the corridors at a much slower pace than the rest of the students, clearly not wanting to be noticed. Harry lost sight of him in a crowd once or twice… but for some reason… she knew exactly where he was going.

Harry ducked into the Library and gasped when she saw him raise his wand against the turned back of a young woman behind the librarian's kiosk. A white spell hit her squarely in the head and she slumped over in her chair.

Riddle quickly made his way up the stairs leading to an area that Harry was becoming quite familiar with. She watched him step over the rope and unlock the gate. Within seconds, he found the book he was looking for on the tenth shelf. Harry paled when she saw the title and knew in that instant that this was definitely Tom Riddle.

Riddle sank to the ground and immersed himself in Secrets of the Darkest Art with a hungry look in his eye.

Harry watched intently as the boy sat mumbling to himself, occasionally raising his wand and muttering out incantations under his breath. The sight disgusted her. She could feel the utter wrongness of the book and this boy was clutching it to his chest like a favorite pet.

It felt like hours before Tom finally closed the book and stood up. He replaced the tome on its shelf and began to vaguely wander through the aisle, dragging his thumb across the titles. They rounded the corner… and Tom froze.

That was when Harry heard them.

That was when she heard the whispers.

Tom walked to the eighth shelf like zombie; his eyes wide and his forehead sweating.

Harry knew what to look for. There in the middle of the shelf, were two green leather-bound books.

"_**Tom. We can bring your mother back. Jusst… open uss."**_

The boy didn't seem fazed at all by the whispering of the books as he stopped in front of them. Cocking his head, he regarded them curiously and hissed, "What are you?"

"_**We are the oness that can give you what you sseek. Power beyond your wildesst dreamss."**_

"Prove it," hissed the boy skeptically.

"_**Long have you ssearched for the hidden chamber and the power that liess within it. Open uss… and take it."**_

Tom frowned… but slowly reached out and took the books from the shelf.

Harry quietly watched the boy spasm and shriek in pain, not feeling at all guilty that a part of her enjoyed it. It felt right. It felt like payback.

Quite suddenly, the air around them seemed to still. Specks of dust floating in the sunbeams came to a halt in midair; frozen like bubbles in imperfect glass.

Tom stopped shrieking from his position on the floor and sat up, his eyes groggy. Tentatively, he reached out to open the book.

There, on the first page, was a detailed illustration depicting a black cobra poised to strike.

His breath shaky, Riddle dragged his finger across the caption at the bottom of the picture and whispered, _"Kazzan."_

Harry tensed when the paper snake appeared exactly as the python had for her. It wasn't monstrous, but it was still large. The cobra slithered through the air around Tom's body in hypnotic circles and in two voices, it hissed, _**"Tom Riddle; desscendent of two; heir of two. Do you accept thiss legacy?"**_

Harry wasn't surprised at all when Tom readily hissed, "I accept."

The book appeared in front of them.

"_**Open the book."**_

Tom cracked open the cover. Harry watched in disgust as a giant green python erupted from the skin of the boy's back and sank into the parchment.

The word 'Nagini' scrawled itself across the bottom of the page.

In an almost loving movement, the paper cobra slid around Tom's neck and bit down upon his collarbone.

Harry felt herself falling; falling once more through icy water. Tom was falling as well… and… he was staring straight at her.

"Who… are you?" he asked calmly.

Harry's eyes bulged with anger as she and Tom slammed down upon cold slimy stone.

_Oh I dunno… I'm the girl whose family you murdered? I'm the girl who killed you? I'm the girl who is going to kill you again for taking Ginny away? Take your fucking pick._

"I'm… I'm no one important," she whispered through gritted teeth, barely able to stop the rage she felt from seeping into her voice.

The dark-haired young-man glared at her with suspicion, but did not ask again.

Harry stood up, staring stonily down the length of the passage. They had landed in the heart of the most massive chamber she had ever seen. To either side of them were rows of columns that stretched all the way up to the ceiling; a ceiling that was so high, it was lost in a sea of darkness. Carved snakes wound their way up the sides of the columns and Harry got the odd feeling that their glittering emerald eyes were peering into her.

"A pensieve in its raw form," muttered Tom. "How very interesting. So, we are both inside… _no…_ that's not _quite_ right, is it? Hmmmm."

"Do shut up," replied Harry angrily, turning her back from his arrogant face. "The sound of your voice makes me want to vomit."

Tom chuckled. "Why so angry, girl? Have I wronged you? We've only just met, after all. I must say, your Hogwarts uniform is unlike any I have ever seen… and I have seen them all. The skin it reveals; it's most… _enticing_."

His final word was whispered breathily into Harry's ear and she shrieked as several spidery fingers slid up the back of her skirt to slide along the hem of her knickers. Slapping the hand away, she whirled around, whipped out her wand, and screamed at the top of her lungs, _"INCENDIOS GRATA!"_

There was no magnificent blast of fire. There was no searing heat that made her body hum with magic. Nothing happened.

"Oh… yes." Tom smirked, gesturing at their surroundings. "I'm afraid your spells won't work here, as we have fallen into a strand of memory. Anyway, there's no need for violence. With my touch, I was merely testing a theory and it seems that I was correct. This is indeed a memory we have _both_ entered. What puzzles me is your risqué attire. I've never seen such clothing… so I can only assume you're from a future after my own. So, how is that you can be sharing… _wait_…"

Harry ground her teeth, becoming angrier with every word the young man spoke.

His black eyes widened in astonishment. "Ahhhhh. Oh my, yes. _Yes,_ _I see._ It's a _replicating_ pensieve. I had thought such magic was pure myth! Well, well, well. You must have opened the book I created and… and _I_ must be the memory. How exceedingly odd! Tell me, girl, do you know me in your time? Do you know the name Lord Voldemort?"

By the time he finished, her body was trembling with a fury that greatly outweighed her fear of the adolescent psychopath. _"No," _she growled out slowly. "I've _never_ heard of you. You don't look like much of a _Lord_ either. Bit pompous to call yourself one, don't you think?"

Tom's smirk melted into rage and something akin to disappointment, but Harry's expression must have given away the truth, because a split second later, the grin returned to the boy's face even nastier than it had been before. "You're lying! Oh how _marvelous!_ Do tell me why my presence enrages you so. After all, I can do you no harm. I'm only a mem-gugh!"

He fell to the ground slowly, his mouth forming a pained 'o' of surprise as the full impact of Harry's ferocious kick to his bits seemingly dawned on him. The explosion of vomit that spewed from the boy's lips when he hit the ground was truly spectacular.

While Tom was rolling about upon the stone floor, tightly clutching his groin, Harry stomped down on his handsome face, smiling viciously when she felt his nose break beneath her heel. Kneeling down next to his shoulders, she spat icily, "You are _clever,_ aren't you? You're right, I _do_ know you. You killed my parents... and then… _I killed you._"

Harry's vindictive triumphant smirk widened as Riddle's eyes flickered with a slight sheen of fear. "That's right. I killed you… and I'm itching to do it again. And I think… in this place… I could probably do it again. You see, Tom, I'm a tad clever myself. We may be in _your _memory… but from what little I've read about raw non-runed Pensieves, your memory is being played out in _my_ head. If I remember correctly, it said something about distorting memories as they happen. Well, I suppose that means that basically, if I want you to hurt… _you'll hurt."_

"I… I could…"

She placed her foot on his neck, effectively cutting him off. "What? What could you do? You can't harm me, isn't that right? We have no magic here, isn't that what you said? Well, you don't look like you've had a day's worth of exercise in years and I doubt you've ever thrown a punch. Now I may be small, but I'm a Quidditch player and a rowdy one at that. So, if I were in your position… I'd stay down, keep my hands to myself, and shut my fat mouth!"

Tom sneered and spat blood at her, but he didn't attempt to rise from his spot on the floor.

"That's what I thought," agreed Harry in a tone that was far more confident than she actually felt. "You're just a big pansy. Scared of a twelve year old, you are. I can't _wait_ until I tell Ron and Gin that I broke your nose. We'll have a great laugh at your-"

As much as she would have liked to continue torturing the boy that would one day become the cause of virtually all her misery, the appearance of two arguing men from a side tunnel abruptly brought her abusive rant to an end.

"Master Merwyn, please! I need your assistance. Godric and his mentor are already stirring the people for war."

Harry gasped. Dark-hair, tumbling body-length beard, rounded cheeks that made him look strangely like a monkey; she knew exactly who the pleading man was. His massive ornately-framed portrait hung directly above the statue of Gregory the Smarmy, which she had passed countless times on her journeys to and from the Library.

Salazar the Black, Slytherin the Unmerciful, the Destroyer of Wales, was striding past her down the length of the chamber, groveling at the robe hems of his cloaked and hooded companion.

Suddenly realizing what this enormous chamber might be, Harry removed her foot from Tom's throat and followed the pair toward a wide open space at the end of the columned passage, listening intently.

A deep voice hissed from within the depths of the cloaked man's hood. "I have spent years throwing off my pursuers. And yet you wish me to expose myself so I can fight your war? I think not, boy."

"Of course not, Master," groveled Slytherin hastily. "I have built this chamber for your specific use. Within it, we can secretly train our army without risk of exposure."

"_Your_ army!" corrected the cloaked man harshly.

"Of-Of course, Master. I'd never presume t-to-"

The cloaked man spun and backhanded Slytherin across the face. The momentum of his movement sent the hood careening backwards and a monstrous visage was cast into the dim light.

Harry's heart began to pound at an incredible rate. The man was young; far younger than Slytherin. And yet, although he could not have been a day over thirty, his hair was a snowy white. Just like Nicolas Flamel, his face was youthful… yet his eyes displayed the qualities of an impossible age. They were a deep unnatural orange and the pupils were shaped like that of a cat's.

The most terrifying features of the man's face, however, were his nostrils. They were nothing but slits in a flattened nose. Harry thought he looked disturbingly similar to a snake; disturbingly similar to…

She eyed the bloodied boy that was now standing several feet behind her, observing the two men with rabid interest.

_To you._

In that moment, Harry's rapidly whirling brain made several connections at once. She remembered the enormous basilisk that had torn apart the bodies of a hundred old men. She remembered his deep voice echoing from her vocal chords as she scolded a young Salazar Slytherin. She remembered that there had been a green book and a paper snake. She remembered the name Merwyn. She remembered the vengeful vow that she had made before the statue of Hades. She remembered the three young men as they had bound her to her bed. She remembered the rage and betrayal she had felt when she had seen her daughter's beautiful, yet haunting face. She remembered the name she had carried in secret through a lifetime of anger and hate that spanned for two millennia.

_Herpo._

Slytherin straightened from the blow slowly in an obvious attempt to control his anger.

"Grandfather," he said softly. "If you do not wish to assist me, at least grant me a boon so that I may continue your noble work. Perhaps… one of the greater tomes? Azriel would surely give me the power to-"

"Do not appeal to my _familial_ senses, boy! Azriel? You wish for Azriel? You are not worthy of the creation magics!" The young, yet ancient man laughed derisively and a sickening wave of pulsing power washed over Harry. In comparison, the intensity of Herpo's magic made the impressive power that Flamel had once exuded in the Hospital wing feel like a cheap parlor trick. "You forget, Salazar, that I have begotten a hundred sons and daughters far more gifted than yourself. In fact, I believe your blood-brother's Master is indeed one of my own. Tell me, why should I help _you_ destroy a greater son?"

"_Because_ I am the only one with the will to carry out the ancient vow," Slytherin angrily shouted in Parseltongue. "Because only _I_ was worthy enough to receive the language of the snakes!"

The withered old man slammed his snake-entwined staff down upon the ground. Harry stumbled in surprise as the stone beneath her feet began to shift; bulging and frothing like the waves of an ocean.

At the end of the massive chamber, a mountain of black stone rose from the earth, twisting and climbing through the air in a great swirling column. Slytherin slammed his staff upon the ground once more and shouted magnificently, "Because I am the _true_ heir of Hades!"

The tornado of rock compressed and Harry's mouth fell open as an enormous likeness of the famous wizard took shape.

"Perhaps," replied Herpo calmly as the crunching of stone subsided. "Yet you have done _nothing_ of worth to prove yourself to me; you have done nothing but build a travesty of a castle with your _friends_! I have granted you Kariel, Tamriel, Boriel, and Jazriel, yet you shame my knowledge with these cries for help. You present me with a _soggy_ secret chamber; the entrance to which lies in a toilet! Prove to me that you are worthy, Salazar! Prove to me that you are worthy of my legacy and I will grant you the tome you have so desperately desired these many long years."

The impossible-eyed wizard withdrew the wand that would one day be the cause of his death. "Defeat me," he whispered dangerously. "Defeat me, Salazar, and I shall grant you Azriel."

Slytherin reached up and undid the clasp of his high-collared outer robe. As it slid to the floor, he replied sourly, "Very well, _Master_."

For several minutes, the two men stared at each other in silence, one looking apprehensive, the other looking vaguely bored.

Then, out of nowhere… the duel began.

Salazar twirled his staff and a spiral of black lightning erupted from its tip.

The other man react in the slightest, so, when the lightning split down the middle, dissipating into the walls on either side of Herpo, Harry was left gaping in amazement.

"The Nox Argentus," whispered a trembling voice from behind her. "It is said to be unshieldable, yet he blocks wandlessly. How could any man have such power?"

Completely unfazed, Slytherin cut the lightning spell short and slammed the staff upon the ground. A circle of flame erupted around him. It twisted and grew into a roaring inferno. Dancing in the flame were shades and silhouettes of creatures Harry had seen only in her defense books. Werewolves, dragons, kelpies, and hippogriffs darted toward the white-haired wizard, their cries of fury echoing off the mile high ceiling.

Herpo raised the wand made from what Harry vaguely recalled to be elder wood, basilisk heart-string, and thestral hair. Without a word from the man's lips, the oncoming demons of flame were sucked into the wand like water down a drain.

"Come come, Salazar," he said with a wry chuckle. "_Surely_ I taught you better. Using my own spells against me will never ensure your victory."

Slytherin's face flickered with the same rage Harry had seen whilst she… no… whilst _Herpo_ had taught the boy the death spell. He raised his staff and spat venomously, _"AVATA KATAVRA!"_

The blast of green light was massive, at least ten feet in diameter. It washed over the spot where the orange-eyed man had been standing… and when it cleared… his body was gone.

Harry frowned… It seemed odd to her that the immensely powerful wizard would be defeated so easily.

Seemingly weakened from the spell, the bearded Hogwarts Founder limped toward the spot where his Master had disappeared in the green light, heavily leaning upon his staff as a walking stick. Yet before he reached it, he spun and brandished the long weapon to summon a solid wall between himself and a thousand glittering black arrows that poured out of the shadows from across the length of the chamber.

"Not good enough, boy," hissed Herpo's deep voice. "_Malicum Voldrifors Hidras ex!"_

At first, Harry thought nothing had happened as the words echoed dully against the stone walls… but when ten pairs of enormous gleaming orange eyes appeared in the gloom, she knew that the man had just performed an amazing feat of magic. A shiny row of yellowing teeth hovered in the shadows beneath each pair of eyes, some dripping with what could only be blood.

Waving his staff in complex patterns, Slytherin rapidly backed away as an enormous clawed foot stepped from the darkness.

Even though there was no danger, Harry pulled out her wand and pointed it at the monster as it made its way into the light.

It was a hydra.

"A friend I met in Pompeii," Herpo drawled lazily from his lounging position atop the roaring fiend's back. "It took me several decades to master the transfiguration. Do you yield, boy?"

The hydra reared its many snake-like heads a hundred feet into the air, preparing to lunge…

Slytherin finished his spell and hissed something that Harry couldn't hear. She gasped as the man's body began to elongate and twist. Within seconds, a black cobra, twice the size of the hydra, complete with two massive saber-length fangs that were dribbling with venom, was lunging for the necks of the hydra.

The battle between the beasts was long, fierce, and decidedly bloody. At its end, the hydra had re-grown twenty-three heads and Slytherin lay at the foot of his statue, missing both his arms and a leg.

Herpo waved his wand and the monstrous multi-headed beast shank into what looked to Harry like a small pebble. He strode forward to the wounded old man, shaking his head and chuckling benignly. "Foolish to use your own body for a battle transfiguration, Salazar. Most foolish indeed. How many times did I cover such trivial details?"

Slytherin laughed, choking on the large amount of blood that was spilling out of his mouth. "I will never best you, Master, if I rely soley upon your teachings. This I know full well."

"I suppose you are correct." Herpo waved his wand and Harry gagged as bones exploded outward from the stubs of Slytherin's torn appendages in a shower of blood and gore. Flesh and skin reformed around the new limbs and, in mere moments, Slytherin was standing once more. "Despite your foolishness, you fought well; a far better opponent than your wayward father could ever hope to be. However, I shall not grant you Azriel the Creator."

Slytherin frowned, but nodded his acceptance and bowed before the snowy-haired man. "I understand, Master. True power shall not be granted to the weak."

Herpo waved his wand once more and a thick green book appeared between the two men. "I shall, however, grant you Mariel the Birth Mother. In it you shall find the secret to breeding your own Prime. With this knowledge, I bid you crush those that wish your school filled with the spawn of the filth-ridden Giftless. Shall you fail, Salazar, you shall find me _most_ displeased."

"I shall not fail, Master Merwyn," breathed Slytherin excitedly. "I shall drive the Muggleborn from this school, I so swear it. My very last breath shall be drawn as I force them back into the holes from which they crawled."

His screams echoed through the chamber as the book fell into his hands.

Harry felt the distinct stilling of the air once more.

This time, when the book was opened and the name was spoken aloud, no ordinary snake took shape. A massive basilisk, roughly the size of Slytherin's tranfisguration, spilled out of the diary in a flood of crackling folding paper.

After a black cobra had torn its way out of Slytherin's chest, he held out his arm to the basilisk. Its foot-long paper fangs clamped down on the offered limb with a disgusting _SNICK._

Harry was falling once more; falling with both Tom Riddle and Salazar Slytherin.

The monkeyish man was staring at her intently, paying little to no attention to Tom. "A new descendent?" he whispered quietly to her. "From whose line did you emerge, child?"

Harry refused to answer the dark wizard verbally or truthfully, so she nodded towards Riddle.

"From him?" asked Slytherin with a cold bark of laughter. "Oh my… You poor little thing. I've been inside his head you know. The inbreeding of his line has made him most unstable. When his death arrived and we were recreated within the books, I was devastated that he had not produced an heir in my time with him. I suppose the safeguards he took prevailed after all. It soothes me to know that he was not my last."

Tom opened his mouth, indignant words surely about to erupt from it in a torrent, but a harsh backhand from the older wizard silenced him thoroughly. "Hold your tongue while I'm speaking, boy!"

Harry turned her back on the pair of vile wizards as the three of them slammed down to earth at the foot of a bloodied stone alter in what appeared to be a dimly lit cave. She quickly looked away from the disemboweled corpse of the small girl that lay in the center of the risen platform. From the expression of pain and horror on the child's frozen face, Harry knew that the little girl had not entered the next life quietly and that the surgical mutilation of her body was probably inflicted before she was allowed to die.

Herpo was kneeling in front of the stone; a green book lying open on the rock in front of him. In his hand was…

A heart.

A _beating_ heart, still dripping with blood.

A heart that Harry assumed had just been freshly cut from the little girl's chest.

Herpo placed it upon the pages of the book, where it liquefied and sank into the paper, just as the snakes had. Closing his eyes, the white-haired wizard raised his wand to his temple. When the tip left his head, Harry saw a silvery thread dangling from its end.

Herpo smiled and lowered it into the book.

As soon as the thread touched down upon the pages, a searing unholy pain burst through Harry's body. Her skin began to twist. Her flesh began to slide and slither across her bones. Hundreds of tiny white-hot knives sank into her skin two at a time. Three strands of silver thread were burrowing into her brain… and it was agony. Curses of hissing nonsense and magic of long forgotten chaos flooded through her mind; the blackened knowledge tainting everything it touched. She could breed monsters that killed with their gaze alone. She could slither on the wind. She could raise an army of loyal serpents, as massive as they were vicious. She knew it all… _was_ it all. Snakes slid about her brain, biting into her thoughts, squeezing at her memory, and twisting everything that made her Harriet Lily Potter. More and more spells flooded into her mind and there was nothing she could do to stop the flow.

_Don't, Harry! You can't let them in! _

A swirl of golden light cut through the darkness… and Harry awoke with a tremendous gasp.

She blinked rapidly, trying to figure out where she was and why her head was pounding with such ungodly ferocity. Scarlet and gold walls swam before her eyes in a hazy spiral that made her feel like she was about to vomit.

Harry ferociously kicked at the sweaty bindings of cloth that ensnared her in a silky prison. She tumbled out of the scarlet cell and onto cold stone, upon which she readily emptied the contents of her stomach.

"Merlin!" cried an anxious voice from behind her. "Harry, are you alright?"

Harry whirled around, wiped the vomit from her mouth, and hastily grabbed for her wand… which wasn't in her customary skirt pocket. In fact… she wasn't wearing a skirt.

She was wearing knickers, a T-shirt, and nothing else.

Parvati Patil was kneeling in front of her, a look of concern plastered across her caramel-tinted face.

"W-What?" Harry stuttered, feeling feint. "How am I… How did I… What?"

Parvati shook Harry's shoulders. "Harry, look at me!"

Harry did so… and she suddenly came to realize that she was sitting half-naked on the floor of their dorm.

_Was it… was it all a dream?_

A spell flooded into her mind; a spell that would pull the linings of Parvati's esophagus out through her mouth.

Harry gagged.

_No… it wasn't._

The Indian girl pulled her up and dragged her into the bathroom. She gently draped Harry over a toilet and whispered frantically, "I'm going to go and find Hermione! I think she's still at dinner. We'll be back soon, okay?"

Harry vaguely heard her dash away as another wave of nausea washed over her. She knew how to force Parvati to slice open her own throat. She knew how to scramble the girl's insides. She knew how to make the flesh decay from Parvati's body. She knew how to rip out her roommate's spine with a flick of her wrist.

Her brain couldn't figure out if she wanted to do these things or not. They all seemed like very unpleasant ways to die and Harry didn't really want to kill Parvati, but there was an intense longing to do the spells; a deep powerful urge to let the vicious magic burn through her core.

Harry vomited again as she remembered a spell that would cause Parvati to have a sudden overwhelming desire to eat the flesh of another human being.

"_Fuck,"_ she moaned quietly, flipping the hourglass in an attempt to leave the horrible knowledge behind.

Harry stepped into her memory to escape from reviewing everything that had happened in the Pensieves. The station had returned to its bustling busy state and Ginny was once again cheerfully snacking away on her marshmallow sandwich. Harry wanted to reach out and touch her… but was rather thankful when she found that she couldn't.

As Ginny ran off with Harry's cart, she felt hands shaking her body awake.

Emerging from her calming memory, Harry came face to face with Hermione.

"Harry, are you al-"

"I'm fine," Harry interjected sharply. "I just need to talk to Dumbledore. Help me up, will you?"

Hermione frowned, but helped haul Harry to her feet without protest.

Harry reached down to flush the toilet… and froze.

_You present me with a soggy secret chamber; the entrance to which lies in a toilet!_

"Harry?" asked Hermione cautiously. "What's wr-"

"_HERMIONE!"_ screamed Harry, whirling around and clutching the girl's wrist in a vice grip. "HERMIONE! I KNOW WHERE SHE IS! SHE'S _IN_ THE SECOND FLOOR TOILET!"

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Harry? What are you talking about? What do you mean by… she's… in the…"

The girl trailed off and her mouth fell open.

Harry nodded rapidly, let go of her friend's wrist, and darted out of the bathroom. She wrenched on a pair of pajama bottoms, snatched up her wand, picked up her broomstick, and bolted out of the dorm. Barreling over students in the common room, Harry frantically pushed toward the portrait hole.

"Harry, wait!" shouted Hermione's faint voice from the top of the stairs. "Wait for us! We need to tell Dumbledore!"

"HELL BLOODY NO!" screamed Harry, adrenaline burning through her veins like wildfire. "HE'LL STOP ME FROM GOING AFTER HER! OH FOR CRYING OUT… GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY, COLIN!" Harry literally picked the small boy up and tossed him ungraciously over the sofa into Dean's lap

She darted out of the portrait hole, ran past the giant stone wizard, and dove off the moving staircase, ignoring the cries of 'HALT' from both the Watcher and the Auror on duty outside the entrance. She fell freely past three floors of shouting Aurors, angry Watchers, moaning teachers, gasping students, and cheering paintings before she pulled her Nimbus between her legs and hurtled downward to the second floor.

Harry dodged around a staircase that swung into her path and saw Madame Dupont closing the door to the second floor corridor in the distance. She willed the broom to put on a burst of speed so she could slip through the rapidly shrinking opening. The beautiful woman screeched in fright as she saw Harry barreling toward her and flung open the heavy door to careen back inside. Harry swooped through behind her and shouted her thanks into the wind as she screamed down the long hallway like a bullet.

She rounded the corner and leapt off the broom, coming to a running stop in front of the two bloody messages that simply couldn't be outside this specific toilet by coincidence. Harry ran inside at full speed, pulled out her wand, and proceeded to demolish every inch of the bathroom with explosion curses, searching for a hole, or a magic barrier, or a giant snake pit... or… anything.

Her heart gave a giant excited leap when she fired of an explosion curse at a row of sinks. The spell rebounded from their surface and was jettisoned into the opposite wall. Harry ran forward and began to pour revelation and identity charms all over the metal basins. Finding nothing, she began to turn the taps frantically, thinking there might be some sort of sequence that would reveal the entrance.

Finally, at long last, she found it. On the side of one of the taps there was a tiny engraving of a snake.

She turned it haphazardly… but nothing happened.

She tried an unlocking spell with her wand… but nothing happened.

Growling in fury, she kicked the sink and cried out, "Open up, damn you!"

Out of everything, Harry hadn't been expecting _that_ to work.

The words left her lips in a hiss and a brilliant white light began to emanate from the tap. It spun wildly and the sink…

The sink began to move.

It slid backwards slowly; almost… grandiosely. Harry gasped as it sank right into the ground, leaving in its place a pipe that was easily wide enough to slide into.

Right before Harry had placed a foot into the pipe, the door to the bathroom slammed open and Hogwarts' most ogled staff member burst into the bathroom, her face red from the long distance she had obviously just sprinted.

"Mademoiselle Pottere!" wheezed Dupont in a sultry out-of-breath voice, her accent considerably heavy in her stress. "Just what is eet zat you think you are doing? Flying about and wreaking- MON DIEU! What is zat hole?"

"Oh this?" asked Harry asininely. "It's the bloody Chamber of Secrets… and I'm going in."

Madame Dupont drew her wand. "Non, you most certainly will- POTTERE!"

Harry was already speeding down the pipe before the caretaker could make a move in her direction. The feeling of sliding down the endless, slimy, dark tube was vaguely akin to apparating. Even though it constantly looked wide enough to slide through, at certain points, she felt her body compress unnaturally, like she was shrinking. If the situation hadn't been so dire, Harry thought she might have enjoyed herself as she shot down through the twisting mile-long pipe.

Just when she began to think about what would happen when she hit the ground, the tunnel leveled out and she shot from the end, landing on slimy stone with a painful _thud._

Harry wasted no time tenderly tending to her knee that had been impaled by a small sharp object that looked suspiciously like a bone. Instead, she ripped it out, whipped out her wand, and cried, _"Lumos!"_

As her miniature sun burst into life, Harry vaguely heard a faint screaming coming from the pipe above. It got closer and closer until suddenly… Madame Dupont shot out of opening and landed flat on her nicely-sculpted arse.

Harry gasped and made a run for it before the woman got her bearings, darting away down the tunnel into which they had emerged. There was no way anyone was going to stop her from rescuing Ginny and painfully murdering Tom. Perhaps she would use one of Herpo's disgusting spells. The innard-scrambling curse sounded particularly appealing.

She bolted around a dark bend in the tunnel… and froze.

She could see it.

It was massive and green and _coiled._

Harry suddenly realized that as confident as she was that she would be able to kill Tom… she had absolutely no idea how to deal with the basilisk. She knew how to breed one. She knew how to tame one. She knew how to kill one. But how was she going to do it with only a wand when its scales reflected magic?

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You should have grabbed a bloody rooster when you had the chance!_ _Or a mythril sword! Although… I doubt anyone up there has a mythril sword._

Dousing her wandlight with a breathy grunt of, "Nox," she crept forward, ready to shut her eyes and hide at the slightest movement. Her heart was beating so hard that she could actually feel the pounds rattling her insides.

_Fifty feet._

_Thirty feet._

_Twenty feet._

_Ten feet._

And then… Harry laughed, nudging the giant coil with her foot.

It was a snake skin.

Footsteps pounded around the bend in the tunnel and Harry spun, raising her wand

Madame Dupont fired a red spell at her face as soon as she came around the corner. Harry only just managed to dive behind the massive skin for cover.

"Pottere!" cried the caretaker. "Zis is most foolish! You will get yourself keeled!"

"I don't care!" Harry shouted back. "I won't leave Ginny! She's… she's everything I have!"

The beautiful witch tutted her. "You 'ave a life, child! Return with me now! Ze 'eadmastere will sort zis all out! Qui?"

"NO! You don't understand! You… you…" Harry trailed off as her thoughts became decidedly syrupy and thick. She realized how ridiculously _silly_ it was to put herself in harm's way for Ginny. When she had someone as wonderful as Dominique to care for her, the redhead seemed unimportant. Finding herself wanting to stand, she got up and walked around the coil.

"I 'ave often seen your eyes follow me as I clean, Mademoiselle Pottere." The slim blonde beckoned to her with her pointer finger and Harry was extremely hard-pressed to find a reason not to obey her every command.

She stumbled haltingly toward the busty blonde, wanting nothing more than to touch every inch of the gorgeous woman whose crystalline azure eyes were sparkling like jewels in the darkness.

"C'est vrai," muttered Dominique quietly. "I am disgusted zat I 'ave to resort to using ze charm on a leetle girl zat is not yet aware of her desires. But I _will_ do what is needed to assure your safety. I can only 'ope zat you will forgive me in time."

A jolt of electricity shot through Harry's body when Dominique touched her and she found herself moaning blissfully as the French woman's arms wrapped around her waist to lift her into a loving embrace. Harry felt like a princess as she was carried back toward the safety of the castle; away from the dangers that lay ahead. She reached around her beautiful goddess' neck and tangled her hands into the silky platinum-blonde locks.

"Dominique," Harry whispered huskily. "Please… touch me."

"Later, Mademoiselle Pottere. I shall do so later. For now, I think it would be wise for you to… relax."

Harry sighed in content and buried her nose into Dominique's hair. The scent of the platinum strands was absolutely exquisite. The caretaker smelled of… of…

_Strawberries._

Harry's eyes widened and she greedily pressed her lips to the beauty's neck, nipping and licking at the soft skin beneath the woman's ear.

_Strawberries._

_I… I love strawberries._

Harry slipped her hand beneath her lover's silky chemise, gasping as she felt the bare skin of the woman's flat stomach.

_Strawberries… are… _

"Touch me," Harry pleaded again, inhaling deep breaths of delicious strawberry. "Kiss me."

_Kiss…_

_Love…_

_I love…_

_Ginny._

_Ginny is… _

Harry's head suddenly cleared. Gone was the feeling of euphoria. Gone was the intense desire.

_Ginny isn't this way._

Grunting in fear and disgust, she squirmed wildly away from the caretaker's large chest. The beautiful woman dropped her in surprise and before she had uttered a word of protest, Harry had drawn her wand, pointed it at Madame Dupont, and cried out the first spell that came to mind.

"_Imperio!"_

Dupont's slim face went slack and it took several moments for Harry to realize what she had just done. When it hit her, however, her stomach flopped with a wave of nausea. She had just used one of his spells… and what was worse… she had known exactly what it could do. She had dreaded this magic for so long; the magic that could take away her will; the magic that Voldemort used to make his victims hurt the people they loved. She had _used_ it.

Utterly disgusted with herself, but knowing the deed was done, she whispered quickly, "Please, leave me alone! Go back up to the castle. Tell Dumbledore that I'm going to save Ginny or die trying. Tell him that I've… Tell him that I've used the Imperius curse on you and that I know what that means. Tell him that I don't want him to try and save me, because at the moment, I know I don't deserve it. Tell him that if I can save Ginny by myself, then I'll try to live with all these evil buggers eating away at my mind. Tell him that he meant a lot to me. Tell Ron and Hermione… Tell them… well… no. They know already, I suppose. Now go."

The caretaker nodded and walked away.

Harry watched her disappear around the corner before quietly shuffling back down the tunnel toward the snake skin. Eventually she came upon a solid wall, upon which were carved two entwined serpents with glittering emeralds for eyes. Harry knew instinctively that beyond this door lay the columned chamber she had seen in the pensieve.

"Open up," Harry muttered in a low faint hiss.

The serpents parted as the wall cracked open.

She dashed down the length of the monstrous chamber ready to kill; ready to maim. But when she emerged into the open space towered over by the enormous statue of Slytherin, the breath and adrenaline left her body in a great whoosh.

Her heart fell from her chest as she walked unsteadily toward the huddled heap of chalk-white, cherry-red, and bloody crimson.

"No," she whispered shakily, sinking down next to the decidedly still body. "_No!_ No, no, no, no, no…"

Everything about the body was wrong. Her once pink and freckled skin was a dull white; marred by a sickening pattern of angry scars that crisscrossed all over her body. Her lips were blue and cracked. A deep wound on her shoulder was maggot ridden and oozing pus. Her cheeks were sliced open from ear to ear and her jaw hung loose. One of her breasts was missing entirely and all that remained was a lump of mottled tissue. The amber eyes Harry had longed to see for so long were dull and unfocused.

Ginny was… _gone._

Harry couldn't cry or sob. She was unable to _feel_ anything. She was simply… numb. It was, in a way, a good thing that she felt like this. After all, she needed to be numb before she killed everyone and everything that was responsible.

Harry brushed away the maggots and pulled the broken form of her best friend into her arms, burying her nose into the girl's grimy blood-soaked hair. "Gin, I'm… I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough. But we'll be together soon, okay? I just have to take care of some things."

She knew that he was somewhere nearby. She could feel him; she could feel his smirk; she could feel that he was gauging her reaction to the body. Harry calmly brushed her fingers across Ginny's blackened lips, slowly drew her wand, and whispered into the stuffy slimy darkness, "Why did you do this to her, Tom? Why did you make her suffer?"

He must have been lurking in the shadows, because his lazy reply echoed from empty space behind her. "You know what? I don't rightly know. There was no _real_ point. She was already doing all that I required of her. I suppose I did it out of frustration. Towards the end, she was lost to her own insanity. She stopped fighting… and that took all the fun out of it."

"Fun?" asked Harry hollowly, her fists tightening as a steady stream of rage seeped into her numbness. "That was definitely the wrong answer, Tom. Because now? Now I'm going to make _you_ scream. Now I'm going to make _you_ beg. You'll plead for a swift death… and I won't give it to you!"

"Oho! This is why I've been waiting to rise to the surface even though she's been dead for days! Had you not come, I would have shown you the way, because I wanted to see the anguish of the girl that killed my true self. I wanted to see you _rage_, Potter. I wanted to duel you, alone, on _equal_ grounds." Riddle's sickening giggle bounced about the chamber, stabbing painfully into Harry's heart. "But, in the end, it's all a bit laughable, is it not? How could _you_ kill _me_ without the assistance of some foolish oversight? _Me,_ Lord Voldemort, Heir of Slytherin! The greatest wizard since-"

"You're so deluded," mumbled Harry softly, leaning down to place a kiss upon Ginny's cold forehead. "Opening a book doesn't make you a great wizard."

The silence stretched...

And then...

"What are you talking about?" Tom asked slowly.

Harry wasn't surprised to hear that the confident tone was gone from the preaching boy's voice. "I found the whispering books too, Tom. I found the entrance using the same clue that you did. I watched Salazar and Merwyn fight. I even gave your charming younger self a swift kick to the bits to accompany a hefty nosebleed. I opened the book and now spells to maim and kill you are burning through my head like wildfire. Although I was able to pull out before I learned it all, I still know a hundred handy ways to painfully disembowel you, which I'm most certainly planning on doing after I finish saying goodbye to Ginny."

"L-Liar!" hissed the boy heatedly. "Only _I_ could have opened the book! I am the _true_ heir of-"

"Of _Hades_?" laughed Harry dryly. "Of a god? Don't be ridiculous. Weren't you listening at all? You're _just_ a Parselmouth. You're the descendent of a disgruntled greek wizard that held on to a grudge for far too long after being denied his paycheck. You're nothing special. I bet he has hundreds of descendents by now; maybe thousands. _You_ were just dealt a different card in the luck of the draw."

"_Silence_, Potter! You know nothing about my great heritage! You know nothing about the power that courses through my veins!"

Harry snorted, laid Ginny's disfigured body gently back down upon the stone, stood up, and slowly turned around. "I know a good deal more than you do, actually. But you know what? I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of hearing the truth. Instead, I'm just going to kill you and be done with it."

Riddle stepped from the shadows beneath Slytherin's statue. His expression was murderous, yet his black eyes seemed… _excited_. "_No_… I don't think you will. Watch her closely, Potter."

He waved Ginny's wand and a silver dagger appeared in midair.

Harry paled as a long line of blood opened across Ginny's chest as Tom ran the knife across his own skin.

"You see? She has yet to cross over. Her soul is still bound to me; bound to her decaying body. If you harm me in any way… her body too will suffer. And if you _kill_ me? If you kill me, Potter, her soul will remain trapped in this world forever; never able to move on. She will roam this plane as less than a ghost; completely alone. _Now…_ ask yourself. Can you condemn your _precious_ little Ginny to such a fate?"

Harry's heart constricted painfully and a hot angry tear dripped down the side of her left cheek.

"As I thought," whispered Tom. "This love you share… Don't you see? It is nothing but weakness. With the slightest tug at your heartstrings, I can make you dance to any tune I choose. And the tune I'm humming today, Harry Potter, is your death. Tell me, how would you like to die? I think it is best that I forego a wandfight and another collision of our magics." Tom levitated the silver dagger to Harry and crooned nastily. "Would you like to take your _own_ life, Harry? If you leave it up to me, I will surely find a _most_ painful way for you to exit this world."

Harry flicked her wand and the floating conjured knife vanished. She fixed Tom with a level stare and said calmly, "Do your worst. But don't be surprised when I don't roll over and die like a good little girl. You've taken everything from me… and I'm going to repay you in kind before I go."

Tom waved her off and turned towards the statue of Slytherin. Raising his arms in subjugation, he threw back his head, opened his mouth wide, and hissed.

Harry, of course, heard exactly what was said.

"_Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four!"_

Slytherin's gigantic stone face began to _move,_ the mouth slowly opening wider and wider.

When Harry saw something shift within the dark gaping orifice, she knew exactly what was about to happen. Turning from the statue, she bolted back down the length of chamber and darted down one of the many side tunnels near the entrance.

She heard a heavy thud and Riddle's angry hiss of, "After her!"

Her brain whirling, Harry turned, pointed her wand at mouth of the little tunnel, and cried, _"Bombarda!"_

The rock above the entrance collapsed in on itself thrusting both the tunnel and Harry into pitch black. Not knowing where she was going, she flipped the hourglass and darted down the tunnel, using the extra-sensory boost that the mind-magic gave her to navigate through the darkness. Harry turned corners, slid down slimy slopes, ascended grimy inclines, and crawled through holes that the massive basilisk would never be able to traverse. Convinced that she was thoroughly lost to the world, she came to rest in a small wet hollow, the musky stench of which, while not exactly pleasant to her enhanced sense of smell, was exceedingly fragrant when compared to the rest of the tunnels.

After Harry caught her breath, her nostrils flared in recognition. The little enclosure smelled disturbingly like…

Harry hastily fumbled to light her wand and when the illumination spell burst forth, a large pile of rotting banana peels was revealed before her.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

The bananas had eyes.

From within the depths of the pile, a familiar glinting emerald gaze was staring up at her curiously.

"_A-Alice!"_ whispered Harry in a choking hiss, unable to believe what she was seeing. "Is… is that really…"

Her little friend slithered out from the pile and cautiously approached her ankle.

"_Hello, Chica. I have been longing to ssee you."_

Harry held out her palm and Alice coiled around her fingers, darting her tongue rapidly against Harry's thumb.

"Oh Alice, I… I'm so glad you're safe!" Harry cuddled the small snake to her chest. At the moment, she didn't really care why Alice was in the Chamber, nor did she care whether or not the snake was still being affected by the basilisk. She had desperately missed her very first friend and their reunion amongst the utter shite that had become her life was extremely welcome.

Alice began to wiggle fiercely. _"Wait! Harry sspeaker, you… Why have you come? You musst leave thiss place! The King is near! He lurkss in the sshadowss! You musst flee!"_

"I know all about it," hissed Harry softly. "I can't leave. I have to save Ginny."

"_No! You musst go! He ussess my eyess! He ussess them! Go now!"_

Harry paled as the sound of a loud rattling hiss that came from neither Alice nor herself, echoed down the tunnel. Holding the wiggling snake tight, she covered its eyes with her hand and whispered under her breath, "Focus on somewhere else! Anywhere but here! _Do it now!"_

Harry doused her wand and slapped a hurried silencing spell upon both Alice and herself. Praying to God, Merlin, and Mrs. Weasley's cooking, she held her breath… and waited.

Something heavy splashed down in the water outside the several holes she had crawled through to reach the hollow. The snake was so close. Its bone-grinding voice sounded as if it was being shouted directly into her ear.

"_Time to kill. Let me rip you. Let me tear you. Let me kill you!"_

The rancid stink of the monster's breath as it slithered past them caused Harry to gag and moan, yet thanks to her quick spell, both escaped her throat silently.

It was at least fifteen minutes before the basilisk seemingly lost interest and slithered off.

Harry removed the silencing charm and let out a deep shuddering breath. "That was… _awful!_

Alice darted her tongue against her thumb in agreement.

Frowning at the snake, Harry whispered, "Can it still control you?"

Alice slid back to her banana peels and slithered up to the pinnacle of the pile, where she curled up so that her head was hidden by her body.

"_He iss King. He callss uss to hiss sside. If we refusse the call, it hurtss, Chica. It hurtss uss sso very much. We are compelled to obey hiss every command. He ussess our bodiess to sspy and lurk. Yet I… I have sstrengthened. I have chossen to hide; to ressisst hiss orderss. The casst offss of the sstudentss mealss are enchanted to become hiss food. I emerge to ssteal and then I retreat to ssafety. I am near enough to hiss lair that it doess not pain me… but I do not obey. _

Harry crawled over to the white snake and stroked its body softly. "I'm… I'm very proud of you, Alice. I apologize for making you go away. I'm such a-"

"_It wass the right choice, Chica. I wass not yet able to refusse him."_

"Still, I'm s-" Harry abruptly stopped mid-hiss as an imaginary light-bulb flicked on above her head. "Alice, are snakes _immune_ to its gaze?"

"_Yess, Chica."_

Harry nodded hurriedly, her brain whirring out of control. "And… And _you_ can disobey it?"

"_Yess, Chica."_

"Do you think… Do you think that if you were bigger than the basilisk… you could constrict it?"

Alice's body stilled. Even though the snake's eyes were hidden, Harry could almost picture the inquisitive look in her eye.

"Alice," Harry hissed cajolingly. "Please, tell me! If you were big enough… could you kill it?"

"_Yess, Chica… I think I could. But I am not big. I am ssmall."_

"Not for long," Harry said with a grin. "This is going to work… and Tom is going to pay."

With Alice in hand, she flipped the hourglass, crawled out of the hollow, and quickly wound through the tunnels until she saw light. Harry darted towards it and emerged once again into the main chamber.

Riddle was lounging against the leg of Slytherin's statue, lazily twirling Ginny's wand. His eyes narrowed in annoyance when he saw her. "Tired of hide-and-seek, are we, Potter? _Prime! She is here! Come to me!"_

The basilisk's distant roar echoed out from the tunnels, making it seem like she was surrounded. Harry ran to hide behind the nearest column, placed Alice down upon the ground, and asked frantically, "Alice, do you want to be free? Do you want to kill the basilisk?"

"_Yess, Harry sspeaker. I wissh it greatly."_

"Then focus on that! I can only perform this ritual on the same snake once without killing it. More importantly, it will only work if the snake _truly_ desires to grow. A-Are you ready?"

"_I am ready, Chica. Give me the sstrength to ssqueeze our foe into the handss of death! I dessire nothing elsse!"_

"I'm… I'm counting on you, Alice. If we manage to pull this off, I'll buy you more bananas than you could ever want!"

Alice hummed pleasantly and coiled up.

Harry took a deep calming breath and drew a fiery circle around the white snake with the tip of her wand. At the top, she borrowed flame from the circle to draw four hovering runes while hissing out their Parseltongue names.

"_Gessheth, Ssisshass, Ecsseth, Sshiiasshiliss."_

Each rune gave off a dark red glow as she completed it.

The Basilisk was getting closer. She could hear it splashing down one of the wetter tunnels.

Harry quickly drew another much larger circle around the smaller then conjured a knife with a whisper of, "_Apparo."_

Grabbing the knife out of the air as it fell, she sliced open her palm. She held the wound above Alice's head and let the blood drip onto the snake's form.

"Love you," Harry hissed softly, even though she knew Alice couldn't understand the English word. She brandished her wand over the circles once more. _"Ssaihirath shiihalasseth!"_

For a split second, Harry thought the ritual had failed when Alice cocked her head expectantly, but then, quite suddenly, the runes started to rapidly spin around the snake. The smaller circle stretched outward to overlap the larger and as it did so, Alice's dimensions stretched as well.

Harry's eyes bulged as the length of the small reptile doubled, then tripled, then quadrupled, then quintupled.

In a matter of seconds, Harry's little white snake had become her enormous white snake. She was at least as thick as the basilisk and easily three times as long. Her glinting emerald eyes were the size of bludgers and her two previously needle-sized fangs were roughly as large as broomsticks.

Harry heard the basilisk slither out through the large puddle of water that lay at the feet of Slytherin's statue. Its enraged hiss reverberated around the chamber.

"_What iss thiss? You dare challenge your masster, inch-worm?" _

Alice's massive body coiled like a spring and inside Harry's head the snake's ground-shaking voice screamed out, _**"I WILL HAVE FREEDOM**__!__** SSISSTERSS! BROTHERSS! DEATH BECKONSS! DEATH TO THE KING!**__"_

The rock beneath Alice crunched and crumbled as she sprang away from the columns.

Harry conjured a mirror and grinned as she watched the scene unfold. The smaller snake didn't have a chance. On the very first lunge, Alice had constricted around the basilisks mighty jaws. The King of Serpents flailed wildly beneath the pressure, but couldn't seem to break free from the enlarged boa's grip.

Tom screamed in rage. Harry saw the boy's reflection point his wand toward Alice; she saw his mouth open.

"_Avada K-"_

Harry quickly dove out from behind the pillar and shouted, _"Expelliarmus!"_

Ginny's wand soared upward, twirling and spinning. With quick reflexes and a shout of triumph, Harry snatched it deftly from the air. A swish, a flick, and an angry mutter of, _"Wingardium Leviosa_," sent Tom whizzing upward. He didn't look like much of a climber, so she dropped him atop the gesturing stone palm of Slytherin's statue. It was far too high from the ground for him to do any harm to Alice as she fought with the basilisk.

The white boa had already coiled around the deadly serpent's entire length and judging by her victim's muffled roars of agony, she had just contorted the basilisk's body into an extremely painful position.

The monster's weak hiss could just barely be heard beneath Alice's crushing weight. _"You sshall know my vengeance, inch-worm, in thiss life or the next! Children, come to me! Come to your masster'ss aid!"_

From the mouth of every side tunnel, the pained hisses of what could have been one snake, but sounded more like hundreds of them chanting in tandem, echoed eerily through the Chamber of Secrets.

"_Death to the King! Death to the King! Death to the King!"_

The basilisk's roar of rage was cut short as a sharp squelching _POP_ rang out above the din. The chamber rapidly sank into a fearsome quiet; no snake or human alike daring to make a sound.

Alice unwound. With an enormous splash and an earth-trembling _thud, _the basilisk's misshapen body fell to the floor. Its large yellow eyes were peering directly at Harry and given the fact that she was still breathing, she came to the same conclusion that Alice voiced a second later.

"_**The King iss dead."**_

"_The King iss dead,"_ chorused the many snakes in the surrounding tunnels. "_The King iss dead! The King iss dead!"_

"NO!" yelled Tom furiously, clutching the edge of Slytherin's hand. "It can't be! How could it… NO!"

"Don't you hear them?" Harry shouted upwards. "_Nothing_ can survive having its skull twisted off its spine! Face it! It's dead! Everything you love, Tom; I'm going to destroy it all! Alice, get him down will you? I want him to watch this next bit."

Alice sprang upwards and coiled once around the furious Riddle, before crashing back to the ground. His face steadily turning blue, Tom wiggled in the snake's suffocating grip, but failed to free either of his pinned arms.

"Loosen up a little, Alice. I don't want him to die before Dumbledore has a good look at him. Now, Tom… where is your diary? That's next on the list."

Tom spat at her. Harry found it slightly amusing that his expression was exactly the same as the one he was sporting when he spat at her in the Pensieve; the look was defiant, yet at the same time, was resigned to his defeat.

"You know," she drawled sarcastically, wiping the spittle from her cheek, "I think I've just _won_! How interesting! I mean, _really_? How could _I _defeat _Tom Marvolo Riddle,_ the great Heir of Slytherin, without the assistance of some _foolish_ oversight? It's just _unthinkable, _isn't it? Ironically, it was all thanks to you and your bastard ancestors. So, do you admit defeat, Tom? Will you tell me where the Diary is? Or do I have to force it out of you?"

Riddle smirked. "Don't you see, _Potter?_ I've already beaten you! Your little bitch is _gone."_

Harry was too numb to even acknowledge his words. "Do tell me where the Diary is, Tom, else I'll be forced to take drastic measures. You see, Herpo's… _Merwyn's_ book… taught me a nice little spell that can make you hurt without actually _harming_ your body physically. Quirrell managed to land it on me last year and let me tell you, it was the most awful pain I've ever felt in my life. If I remember correctly, you tried to use it on me the night we fought. Tell me, Tom. Have you ever felt the pain of that spell?"

He didn't say a word.

"Ahhhhh, I see," whispered Harry, her voice dripping with a silky, yet bitter tone of nastiness that didn't sound like her at all. "Not even once? Why are you so eager to play with magic that you aren't familiar with, Tom? It's _dangerous_ for children to use big-boy spells without intimately knowing the effects." Harry dug the tips of both Ginny's and her own wand into Riddle's adam's-apple and whispered dangerously, _"Shall I familiarize you with them?"_

The sweat was pouring off Riddle's forehead… but he remained silent.

"Ohhhhh, no, _I'm sorry,"_ crooned Harry apologetically. "That wasn't the answer we were looking for. The correct answer is _Crucio!"_

Riddle's high-pitched screams were absolutely terrible to hear… but Harry wasn't going to stop. It didn't matter what side she was on now. It didn't matter what spells she used or why she cast them. Her Ginny was dead… and Harry would shortly be taking her leave as well.

After a full minute, she released the spell. "Was that _fun_ enough for you, Tom? Is this equal to how much _fun_ you were having when you mutilated Ginny? I'll ask again, where's the diary?"

Harry could see that he was dazed and in a pain-muddled state of mind. So, when his eyes flicked upward towards the face of Slytherin, Harry immediately knew the location of the little black book. She tapped herself on the head with the wands and hissed quietly, _"Hessriieth Zessarah."_

Coils of air slithered across her body and suddenly, Harry was rising in a strong current of wind that blew from beneath her in whatever direction she willed. She guided herself up to the mouth and canceled the spell, touching down with a squelch in a stream of foul smelling muck. Harry walked forward into the tunnel, lit her wand, and eventually came upon a large slimy chamber. She gagged at both the sight and the stench of what looked to be the basilisk's nest. Excrement, animal skeletons, insects, and rotting food covered the entire floor in a layer that was at least six inches deep. The diary was, _of course_, sitting upon a rock on the other side of the room.

Back on the ground, she waved the black book tantalizingly in front of Tom's murderous face. "Awww, what's the matter? Don't you want to say good-bye to your diary?"

If, like the basilisk, the boy's looks could kill, then Harry would have died on the spot for the hundredth time that night.

With an uncaring shrug, she tossed the book into the air, aimed the wands, and screamed, _"Incendios Grata!"_

_Flop._

The diary fell to the ground, completely unharmed by the twin blasts of flame that had erupted from the wands.

Frowning, Harry performed her most powerful spell again… and again… and again.

Tom giggled. "You can't destroy it, Potter. I made sure of that when I created it."

She rounded on him angrily. "You're lying. I know you are!"

He smirked nastily. "Am I?"

Harry bit her lip. He _had_ to be lying. She _had_ to be able to destroy the object that had caused Ginny so much pain.

Not quite knowing what to do, Harry inconspicuously reached out to Tom's surface thoughts. She was immediately and painfully battered away… but she had seen what she had needed to see.

"Thank you" whispered Harry with an overly-sincere smile. She picked up the diary, trudged over to the body of the basilisk, pulled apart its mouth, and roughly plunged the book down upon one of its fangs.

However, she jumped back in surprise when the little thing started to bleed ink all over her hands. Even more shocking, as soon as the fang had impaled the diary, both it and Tom let out a truly unholy wail of agony.

When the scream finally subsided, Harry frowned. The Chamber felt different somehow; colder, as if a searing bonfire had suddenly been extinguished. Shivering lightly, Harry turned back to Tom… and froze.

The boy was smiling at her; not smirking, not grinning, but _smiling_. He was staring happily at her through heavy tears and his eyes were blazing with more emotions then Harry could count.

"_Harry,"_ he whispered with a soft sob. "You… you finally came!"

Her heart skipped over several of its rapidly pounding beats. _"G-Gin?"_

Tom nodded fervently.

The overly numb sensation that had kept Harry standing for so long drained out of her body. All of her grief, all of her worries, and all of her fears flooded in at once to fill the empty space. It was all far too much than she could handle at the moment and she just _barely_ managed to flip the hourglass before blacking out cold.

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**And thus Book Two comes to a close.**

**Do take the time to leave a review for this monstrous 33k word mini-novel. **

**I left it cliffed just because it was a good place to stop. I hope it's pretty obvious that Ginny will not be in her current state for very long.**

**Also, don't worry… A.B.E. isn't Evil!Harry.**

**New Art.**

To celebrate the end of CoS, I thought I'd give some nice, long, end-of-chapter background notes.

**EXTREMELY IMPORTANT; MUST READ A/N: **

Even the Perfect Girls Have Problems:

In many different reviews and messages several people have commented on Harry's somewhat flawless character throughout the course of the story so far. Taking a mo' to address this since my answers have been deliberately vague. Now that we're sufficiently into the story and have seen enough of Harry and how she interacts with people, it's time for the truth.

Harriet Lily Potter has a personality disorder.

*gasp*?

No, not *gasp*.

Harry James Potter has one too. His is just a wee bit different, although stemming from the same source: abuse.

I've mainly been trying to convey that even though Harry received the long end of the genetic stick aka "_the whole package_" (intelligence, athleticism, beauty, power, etc) she has an intense central emotional flaw derived from her abuse that I rely on to keep her out of the Mary-Sue territory; the territory that she probably would have existed in had she not grown up with the Dursleys. The reason I write full summer chapters is because her abusive home is such an important aspect of her personality disorder, just as it was with canonHarry.

As I've mentioned before, in nearly all cases, children that grow up in a _truly_ abusive environment (whether it be physical, mental, or sexual abuse) exhibit one of two major characteristics in some shape or form.

1). They are extremely uncomfortable with affection, touching, or expressing their feelings and emotions (Ex: canonHarry, who I like to think was eventually able to overcome it with the constant support and love from Ginny, his kids, the Weasleys, and his friends.)

or

2). They are hyper-attracted to affection and are hyper-affectionate in return. (Often leads to cases of excessive touching and hyper-sexuality aka nymphomania-female, satyriasis-male. Unfortunately, neither affection nor love is going to help anyone get out of this one.)

Harry is most definitely a number 2. And for those people who've gone back and reread the story multiple times you'll see that I hint at it everywhere.

It all comes back to **Piers Polkiss,** **the very first character in the story that displays a distinctive ripple of the Butterfly Effect.** The Juice-Box Incident, Harry's first taste of affection while living with the Dursleys, was an iconic moment in her life. Ever since that taste, she has had an unhealthy weakness for anyone and anything that expressed affection towards her. Although she was far too young to actually realize it, Harry began to care for Piers the second he offered her that juice-box. She adamantly flaunts the words "I hate Piers" over and over. I was trying to hint that that wasn't quite the whole truth, what with their brief tender moments and her hesitation to reject him _even after_ he had helped make her life a living hell. Any normal ten year old would have spit in his face.

Her relationship with Draco is by far the most clear-cut example of Harry's hyper-affection. He is, by all measures, a snivelling bigoted bastard and only another sniveling bigoted bastard would be able to tolerate him. Harry is the anti-bastard. Why does she feel affection for him? The answer is simple. He was kind to her for five minutes in a robe shop. Even though it's being drowned in a sea of bastard, a part of Draco longs to be able to change into a person that Harry can love. He cares for her and thus, she has a weak-spot for him.

Harry's almost immediate affection for Ron, Ginny, and Hermione so soon after meeting them is also a prime example of attachment due to her abuse. Even if someone is nice to them, normal children don't immediately care for the people that show them kindness after they've just met. A relationship has to be built. Harry doesn't need that. After a lifetime of abuse, a girl hands Harry a sandwich without asking for anything in return; a sandwich that Harry is pretending not to want in fear of being punished or scolded. A small gesture of kindness, but to Harry, this girl is now her very best friend. To Harry, _this_ is love. I wrote the sandwich scene because I wanted Harry's and Ginny's relationship to reflect the Juicebox Incident and what could have happened if Piers had not turned against her.

Then we have Hermione, whose relationship with Harry is a reflection of the second act of kindness in the abused child's life: Aunt Marge's gift of a comfortable dress that fit and belonged _solely_ to Harry. Hermione, who is at first tactless and hurtful, immediately falls into Harry's 'shit-list.' But when she takes away Harry's physical pain and discomfort with a gift of warm comfortable clothes that don't make her bleed, Hermione is removed from the shit-list and becomes Harry's third best friend in the span of fifteen minutes, taking on the bond of sisterhood through the familial act of sharing comfort and healing mental wounds. While Harry gets physical comfort, Hermione gets a friend in the sea of loneliness in which she has been lurking all her life.

Ron's meeting with Harry is meant to reflect the third time in her life with the Dursley's that she was shown real kindness. Ron is essentially the second coming of Hagrid. Large, frightening, yet gentle, Hagrid pulls her away from her miserable life with the Dursleys. Tall, crude, yet loyal, Ron pulls her out of the dark and terrifying Petrifying Dream. Considerably more heroic than Hagrid's, Ron's actions cause Harry to dub him as 'Her Savior.'

Here's the main point: In Harry's mind simple acts of kindness and selflessness turn Ginny, Hermione, and Ron into bastions of three very important things to Harry; things that she desperately clings too; things that she never received while living in an abusive home. Love, comfort, and safety.

On the other side of the scale we have Pansy. Pansy acts exactly like Piers in his bullying years. Harry abhors Pansy for no other reason apart from the fact that she is cruel to Harry and Co. If that relationship were to change… _who knows_ what might happen?

Harry's relationship with Luna is the icing on my metaphorical "Harry is unhinged" cake. Harry's thought process just doesn't know what to do with Luna. The blonde girl is openly sexually attracted to Harry, but is a bit too spacey and 'Luna-ish' to be affectionate. As we have seen and will see later in the story, this is confusing to Harry in the extreme.

I thank JKR for creating the perfect characters to fulfill the roles I want them to fulfill.

Harry craves love in all its forms. I allude to this often and it is one of the central reasoning points behind why I chose her to be bisexual. I admit, I originally wrote her as a pure lesbian, but I realized that it didn't fit with what I wanted to achieve at all.

At this point in the story, if you can't look beyond the fluffery, the way Harry's mind works may not look like a weakness. But from a more critical, more 'Slytherin' point of view, there are so many horrible things that could happen because of it. It means that Harry can very easily be manipulated through affection and by toying with her emotions. It means she is overly trusting in the extreme with people that are kind to her. It means she might become a nympho! (**O.O)** It means that if someone tries to rob her of affection and love… you can have no doubt that they're soon going to find themselves injured… or incinerated. (If Malfoy had been any other Slytherin… they wouldn't have made it to the end of this chapter and Harry would likely be heading to Azkaban… or would be under the wandtip of my favorite dark lord) Yada yada yada and so on and so forth.

On a sidebar from the major flaw, Harry is quick to anger and is quick to jump to the wrong conclusion when things get emotional, but in retrospect so is canonHarry.

Also, as we see in this chapter, the dark magic and the horcrux in her head are starting to take their toll. Via the dream, voldie's soul fragment becomes a _much_ stronger presence because she's so sensitive to mind magic.

And most importantly, she is _allergic_ to lemons.

(Do you see what I did there? IT'S CLICHED IRONY!)

Since Lemon Drops are muggle, they are most probably artificially flavored. : )

**Important A/Ns:**

Soul-magic and mind-magic:

In my head, the mind and the soul are two completely different things. Thus I drew a line between soul-magic and mind-magic. Legilimency, Occlumency, and Magic Augmentation all fall into the mind-magic category. So when I talk about mind-fragments, I mean bits of memory and knowledge... for example, the silver threads withdrawn from the temple to place memories into a pensieve. Horcrux-making, possession, and squiggle-related events all fall into the soul magic category. When I talk about the pieces of someone's soul, I mean the bits of you that make you who you are (personality, emotions, etc.). Good examples of the difference between them are the two different ways Tom can control Ginny. He can use legilimency to break into and fiddle with her mind… or he can _become_ her through possession.

Astraling is a rare form of meditative magic that allows you to blur the line. Yes that was vague. Bwuahhaha.

About the Whispering Books, Parsel-magic, and Herpo the Foul:

I'm using Parsel-magic and the Whispering Books because I wanted to explain why Voldemort could do some of the things he could do that seemed so utterly preposterous: like flying without a broom, the resurrection ritual in GoF, how Nagini's venom gave him a temporary snake-baby body, and of course… how he finally discovered the location of the chamber of secrets after five years of research in a library that was open to the public for nearly one thousand.

The whispering books are, in short, rather nastily enchanted and animated pensieves that recognize powerful Parselmouths and pass Herpo's knowledge to future 'worthy' generations. So he takes a few hundred mind-fragments, slaps them in books, enchants them all willy-nilly, and then starts to hand them out to his descendents. It's a rather effective way of teaching, because the mind fragments are absorbed directly into the viewer's brain. They _literally_ become the memories of the viewer.

So, the Parselmouths that hear the whispers are recognized and time stops. They experience all the memory hullaballoo in their head, but can't process the information until they fall asleep and their brain becomes super-active to create dreams. Harry had her odd little experience in the station because her subconscious was tweaking her memory rather than a dream. Normal witches and wizards that get curious with the hissing books are made to hallucinate horrific agony for days on end so that when they finally come out of it, they are deeply encouraged to leave the books alone. Justification for why CanonHarry never encountered them: In his many years at Hogwarts, he only spent a few minutes in the restricted section before fleeing when one of the books he opened began to scream.

There _are_ more of the replicating books belonging to other Parselmouths that picked up different versions of the originals. They just aren't at Hogwarts. What was Voldemort doing during all those years after his disappearance from the house of Hepzibah Smith? The rumors say he was travelling around the world, learning dark-magics long forgotten. Hmmmm. Who… or what… did he learn them from, I wonder?

As I've mentioned before, according to the little information we have, Herpo the Foul is the earliest recorded Parselmouth and the only other mentioned in the HP universe apart from Harry and the Slytherin descendents. He bred the first basilisk, he discovered how to split his soul in half to make the first Horcrux, and he was an inventor of dark spells.

So, without any concrete evidence to contradict me, I strapped on my imagination boots and started to fill in the blanks, building little stories around the bare-bones we were given. I decided that this Ancient Greek wizard was the _first_ Parselmouth; the talent born from his relationship with his first basilisk. I decided that he had lived for nearly two-thousand years with his horcrux intact, cleverly killing off and posing as different wizards down the ages. I decided that he was the creator of the deathly hallows waaaaay back when wands overtook staves and then posed as many of the different "owners." I decided that he was the Grandfather and teacher of Salazar Slytherin and that a few hundred years after, with his ability to speak to snakes, Herpo killed and posed as one of Slytherin's descendents under the name of Malvolus Gaunt. I decided that he sired and killed the non-parselmouth mother of the Peverell brothers. I like to assume that the resurrection stone fell back into the possession of the Gaunts through either a marriage to one of Cadmus's female descendents as Marvolo Gaunt suggests, or… more likely… through murder and theft. He is a forefather to both Voldemort _and_ Harry.

So after all that, I thought making a few crazy maligned penseives wouldn't be that far of a stretch for him.

About Beedle the Bard and the Peverell Brothers:

Beedle wrote the tale of the three brothers sometime in the 1400s according to JK, thus effectively stemming the legend of the "_Deathly_ Hallows." However, knowledge of the powerful Elder Wand was common before Beedle wrote the story, as people had been killing for it for hundreds of years. I don't believe it was specified whether or not the cloak or the stone gained infamy before the story was written.

All of the following is based on very slim logic and flaky evidence… but I'm pretty positive that nothing can be disproved. If I'm wrong, please correct me.

I know JK didn't think about it too much and kept it vague so as not to trip herself up, but due to the fact that his gravestone was written in English, we can assume that Ignotus Peverell lived at _some point_ during the middle ages (5th-15th century) (Yes, the stone _could_ have been enchanted to translate anglo-saxon runes or latin to modern english… but why would it have been? Just because?). When Dumbledore suggests that the Peverell brothers themselves created the objects that came to be known as the Hallows, it seems to me that JK is vaguely implying that they lived during the beginning of the middle ages… at least before Emeric the Evil… but she never specifies at all about the dates. So I took a completely different path. I went for _after_ the time of the founders, based on the slim evidence that Ignotus' name was written in a format of English that not-so-smart canonHarry could _read_… and that's most likely Middle English (1100-1500) and onward. Old English writing is really difficult to read in its natural non-modernized format (Original Beowulf *gag*). (Yes, it _could_ have been enchanted out of its old english lettering… but again… Why would it have been?)

So I went ahead and placed the births of the Peverells somewhere in the late 1300s and came up with this whole other plotline for how the tale of the three brothers came about and for the Elder Wand's creation, which I'll detail vigorously later on in the story when it's time for horcruxes.

I imagined that after the incident with Malvolus-Herpo around 1400, Antioch actually _did_ go to a pub and get himself killed. While there he drunkenly boasted that he and his brothers had finally taken revenge upon their dark-aligned grandfather for the murder of their mother and that they had stolen the legendary Elder Wand-Deathstick-Wand of Destiny, along with two more of his priceless powerful effects: an invisibility cloak that never faded and a stone that could bring back the dead.

Intrigued, someone confidently challenged the sloshed Antioch to a duel. Of course, Antioch crushed them, even while in a drunken stupor. The next day… Antioch was found dead in his room with his throat slit and his amazing wand stolen.

Someone else besides Antioch's greedy murderer had been listening to that drunken story in the pub. He was a fanciful lad named Beedle, who, after hearing the news of the drunken man's murder, came up with what he thought would be a marvelous story to put in his book.

End scene.

Since the truth is unknown and I could achieve the same ending result, I figured 'what the hell I'll have some fun.' And thus, large parts of my plotline were born!

**Unimportant A/Ns in which you can listen to me ramble:**

About Horcruxes:

Horcrux lore is extremely vague in both the books and in Rowling's interviews-website-everything. It's suggested that killing in general tears the soul asunder, but it has been confirmed that there's some mysterious and very specific ritual that has to be performed to actually _remove_ the piece of soul from your body and bind it to a target. And yet, CanonHarry was _somehow_ made into a Horcrux when the curse reflected off him and hit Voldemort.

That brings us to the question… well wtf happened and why didn't Voldemort know about it?

JKR's official standpoint is that Harry is an "unofficial" Horcrux… even though it's exactly the same. Well I thought that was just a tad silly and sounded suspiciously like a blunder. Everyone, myself included, blunders, even our wonderful JK. So I tried to come up with some sort of ritual that would allow for it to happen.

Let me tell you, it took me a long _long_ time to think up an explanation as to why the conditions of such a ritual would be met and why Voldemort went ahead and created nagini as his sixth and final horcrux without knowing that Harry had actually been made into his sixth and that nagini was his seventh. I touched upon it with Herpo's chair, vaguely suggesting that the ritual itself involved inspired a great deal of anguish (Herpo used rape) before killing the victim. The caster would then use the rush of the kill and the victim's anguish to magically force a piece of their split soul from their bodies and direct it into the desired target.

So, in my head I had to play it out and see if it made sense with Harry and all the other horcruxes. Here comes voldie on Halloween, tra la la, fully ready to use Harry's death to sever his soul a sixth time and bind a piece to some fancy object that we conveniently know nothing about. All's going well as James dies terribly in the bedroom, thinking that his wife and daughter are about to get killed. Anguish? Check! Feeling confident, albeit having a few stag horns sticking out of his body, Voldie trots upstairs and does his whole spiel with Lily in accordance with Severus' wishes. But she's rather uncooperative. He kills her and happily turns his wand on the kid, absolutely loving the way the woman had pleaded with him to take her life instead of the baby's. He's got his nondescript fancy object ready in his robe pocket. High off the anguish of the parents, he casts the spell. OH CRAP I'M GOING TO DIE. His body died before he could make his fancy object into a sixth horcrux … but it's alright. He's got five of them. Leaving his fancy object behind to be destroyed with his body, he flees to the nice spot he found in Albania where he created his third horcrux to bide his time and hang with snakes.

Because the spell backfired and because the two parts of split soul are independent from one another, the part of Voldemort's soul that fled to Albania thinks the ritual failed altogether; completely oblivious that he was now half the soul he used to be. But it didn't fail completely… it was just unfinished. The conditions to perform the spell were indeed met. 1) He was high on the rush of the kill when he cast the spell. 2) As a man that fears only death, he was intensely distraught when he saw the spell shooting back at his face. The victim of the spell (voldy) was in anguish and due to the nature of the completed enchantment, a part of his torn soul was _forced_ to remain behind to bind itself to something. It couldn't choose what to bind to without a body and magical core to direct it. Thus, it was forcibly compelled to zoom into the nearest magical living thing, as Dumbles suggested. (TA DA!) (The only bit I had trouble explaining away was myrtle, who was killed by the basilisk. But then I thought, 'what the hell!' Tom knew that he indirectly killed her and knew that he had made her quite upset that a _boy_ was intruding upon her bathroom, which should have been anguishing enough for someone like myrtle.)

I'm sure this will get tossed out when JKR finally comes out with the HP encyclopedia, but that's years down the line.

About Nagini: 

People argue over what kind of snake she is all the time, because the description in the books does not portray any sort of living species on earth. She's the size of an anaconda (all throughout), colored like a viper (GoF), moves and bites like a python (DH, OoTP), can constrict like a boa (DH), and both her stitch-melting venom (OoTP) and name (Indian cobra goddess) suggest a cobra with magical fiery powers. The only explanation anyone can seem to come up with is that she's some form of magically altered snake that JK made up to be scary… which is completely okay. No one would put it past Voldy to breed some kind of super snake with the help of magic. So I went for 'large constricting green python with rows of venomous fangs.' (For a mental image, google 'python teeth' and use the images tab to find the snake that's biting the fence… then add magical venom. SCARY!)

About Harry's head:

It's getting seriously fucked up.

Thanks for reading everyone. Love you all.


	18. Chapter 16: Tears for a Dead Girl

I'm still geeking out about DH Part One and much of the time that I would spend writing the next chapter or fixing up earlier ones will be spent seeing the movie again and again and again. Emma Watson _finally_ learned how to control her eyebrows, Bonnie Wright is _barely_ in the movie, and the horrible romantic comedy awkwardness that plagued HBP is kept to a tolerable minimum! It's _great!_ Go see it! (Although… I'm sure everyone already has.)

This chapter has perspective changes galore because I had a lot of details and ripples to hit.

**Chapter 16: Tears for a Dead Girl**

"_There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief... and unspeakable love."_

_-Washington Irving_

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The dismal little playground that lay behind the towering orphanage was rapidly becoming one of the most miserable places Ginny had ever been to. It was completely barren apart from a grimy seesaw, a rusting set of monkey-bars, and a small swing-set that creaked in the soft breeze. The overall dinginess of the entire scene was suffocating and yet, that wasn't what made it miserable. The playground was a terrible place, because Ginny knew that _she_ was the one that was giving power to the surroundings and they in turn were fueling Tom Riddle.

A hand tugged at her shirt.

Ginny smiled as the little black-haired boy brought her yet another daisy. "Tom, you can bring me all the flowers in the world, but I still can't give you any candy. You know I don't have any."

The child groaned and stomped his foot. "But, Ginny, I _want_ some candy!"

She ruffled his neatly combed hair. "Tough cookies, piggy."

Tom wiggled away from her offending hands, shoved his hands in his pockets, and kicked grumpily at the dirt. "Dennis and Amy stole my share and Mrs. Cole won't give me more! I just… I just want my share."

Ginny sighed. She _knew_ that this adorable, intelligent, little boy's real self had slowly stolen away her soul, trapping her within his own. She _knew_ that he was a part of the monster that made up Tom Riddle, but she simply _couldn't_ bring herself to hate the unhappy seven-year-old that only wanted his stolen candy.

"I know you do," she said comfortingly, placing her arm around his shoulders. "But sometimes you just have to accept that most people are going to be greedy."

Tom leaned into her side, clutching at the pocket of her sundress. "They're _always_ taking my things and calling me a freak! I should take _their_ things! Dennis has a yo-yo that he likes. I should take it and… and hide it!"

"No, you shouldn't."

Tom kicked a stone angrily. "Why not?

Ginny pulled the boy over to the swings and sat down. "My Mum _always_ says that if two dung-beetles have children, those children will always be dung-beetles, never butterflies. Do you know what that means, Tom?"

He shook his head.

Ginny reached out and poked him squarely on the nose. "It means that two wrongs don't make a right and that getting revenge only leads to more people getting hurt."

His black eyes flooding with tears, the small boy plopped down into her lap and cried out, "So what! They think because they're older they can push me around. Well, when I get stronger I'll push _them_ around and make them hurt anyway!"

Ginny closed her eyes in frustration. It was absolutely useless trying to get through to him.

When the last bit of her soul had fully passed over into the diary, she had awoken in the playground to meet this version of Tom. Not one to give up the fight, she came up with the most brilliant idea she had ever had: she would attempt to change him from the inside out. She would teach the innocent little boy right from wrong in the hopes that the Riddle on the outside would change his ways. Her brilliant plan, however, was looking rather futile at the moment, because every moral Ginny tried to teach him went in one ear and out the other. Tom was far too unhappy to learn anything.

The boy leaned back into her chest and wiped the tears from his eyes. "I wish everyone was nice like you, Ginny. You're special too. Just like me."

Swaying the swing back and forth soothingly, Ginny shook her head and said, "Having magic doesn't make you special. We're normal people… just different."

"It's the same thing," said Tom quietly. "I'm special. I am."

Ginny tried to put this particular lesson into simpler terms that the boy of seven would understand. "No, Tom, you're special because you're _you_, not because of your magic. The difference between wizards and muggles is like the difference between an apple and an orange. Both of them are fruit, they both grow on trees, they both have seeds and yet, they taste compl... Tom? What's wrong?"

The boy had stood up abruptly. "I have to go now, Ginny. Thank you for being so nice to me. No one has ever been very nice to me before. I quite liked it. If… If Dennis and Amy hadn't stolen it, I think I would have shared some of my candy with you."

Tom turned his back to her and marched off toward the door of the orphanage.

Ginny's eyes widened. In the eternity it felt like they had spent together inside this playground, Tom had never once offered her anything without wanting something in return. Ginny knew instinctively that somewhere inside the soul of the monster, a tiny part of him, however miniscule, had just changed for the better. "Wait!" she cried, jumping out of the swing. "Come back!"

Tom turned and looked at her curiously. "Why?"

"Because y-"

A hand caught her arm as she attempted to run to the little boy and a quiet, familiar, slightly-squeaky voice muttered sadly into her ear, "Let him go, Gin. He needs to go."

Ginny spun around to meet the owner of the voice. A mess of long, wild, jet-black hair hung into twinkling green eyes; eyes that were staring back at her from behind small wire-frame glasses. The girl's well-cared for white dress was gleaming in the sunlight.

Upon seeing the face of the one person that never left her thoughts, Ginny's heart began to pound in her chest at a million miles per minute. With an excited scream of, _"HARRY,"_ she leapt onto her best friend and they tumbled to the ground.

"Hey, Gin," Harry said lightly, nuzzling her cheek.

Ginny's toes curled in delight and tears of joy sprang forth. She hadn't been able to remember what it felt like to be held and it was completely overwhelming. Wiping her eyes and curling up against Harry's thin frame, she asked in a quavering voice, "How… How are you _here?_"

Harry sat up with Ginny in her lap. "I can't tell you that. I just- Merlin! Gin, _look!_"

Ginny turned in the raven-haired girl's embrace and gasped.

The dingy orphanage with its dingy playground… was gone.

It was if existence itself had melted away and filling in the gap were warm white shores that stretched as far as the eye could see. A cool wind blew over the shining sand, whipping though Ginny's hair pleasantly. The sky was swirling in a mix of twilight, moonlight, sunset, and morning. The magnificent sun that wasn't a sun at all was rising past the horizon in a fiery plume, the light from which cast a golden orange glow over everything it touched. The moon that wasn't a moon shimmered and the stars that weren't stars twinkled on high. Celestial reflections swam through a sparkling pink ocean that felt infinite and timeless; it felt like the entire world forever and ever.

Across the beach, Tom's sun-kissed shadowy silhouette stood in dark contrast against the light of the sunrise. He was gesturing animatedly to another darkened figure at his side: a spindly-looking woman that was fussing about with the boy's hair in exactly the same manner that Mum would do to Ron and the twins. The woman crouched down and withdrew a small bag from her apron.

Ginny leaned back into Harry's chest, watching in silence as Tom shouted in excitement and threw his arms around the woman, who hugged the little boy back just as tightly. When they finally drew away, the boy and the woman both dug their fingers into the bag, pulled something out, and popped a small object into their mouths. Giggling and cheering with delight, Tom plucked out several more of the little things and rushed over to the spot where Ginny and Harry sat. The seven-year-old came to an abrupt halt in front of them, causing a wave of powdery white sand to splash into her lap.

Tom held out his cupped hands… and a quiet giggle escaped from Ginny's chest.

Resting in Tom's pale palms was an assortment of brightly-colored gumdrops.

Ginny formed a cup with her own hands, into which the boy gently placed the candies, careful not to spill a single one.

"Goodbye, Ginny," he said warmly.

She smiled up at him. "Bye, Tom."

For the very first time, the unhappy child smiled back at her. Waving cheerfully, he ran back to the woman and took her by the hand.

Ginny blinked… and the pair of silhouettes disappeared into the orange sunrise.

Harry sighed serenely and placed a light kiss upon Ginny's ear. "I think you saved him from where he would have gone without you."

"Oh, I don't know," mumbled Ginny thoughtfully, cuddling into her friend's embrace. "I think he saved himself right at the end. I think I just pointed him in the right direction."

The girl behind her nodded softly and then asked, "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

Ginny laughed and popped a gumdrop into her mouth. "Nope."

Harry smacked her on the tummy. "A _whole_ lot, you silly bint."

Grabbing a large handful of sand, Ginny reached back and released the earth onto the girl's head in a slow drizzle. "I love you too… but… you're not real though, are you?"

Harry's arms tightened around Ginny's waist and she turned her emerald gaze out towards the sunrise. "What's real and what isn't?"

Frowning at the roundabout answer, Ginny grabbed Harry's lightly-pointed chin to drag the pretty girl's face back around. "Are you _my_ Harry?"

Harry smiled down at her, leant forward to perform their customary Eskimo-kiss, and whispered, "Always."

As soon as she said the word, the rising sun exploded in a swirling, spiraling burst of golden light. Blinded, Ginny reflexively tried to raise her hand to shield her eyes, but found that both of her arms were pinned to her sides.

Slowly, the burst of light faded away and Ginny gasped as slippery dark walls came into view. Somehow, she had returned to the Chamber and was now currently staring at the back of an extremely familiar head; a head that belonged to the girl in whose very lap she had just been sitting.

_That's why Tom suddenly had to go_! _Harry beat him! She… She saved me!_

The girl turned around… and froze in her tracks. The cold murderous expression that was plastered across her best friend's face evaporated the moment their eyes made contact.

"_Harry,"_ she whispered brokenly, a happy sob bubbling pleasantly in her chest. "You… You finally came!"

"_G-Gin?" _stuttered Harry in astonishment, her breath becoming visibly shorter.

Ginny nodded rapidly, blinking away her tears.

Harry's emerald eye-color broke free from the iris it was contained in and flooded the girl's gaze. Moaning lightly, she fell to the floor face-first.

A solid crunching sound as both Harry's nose and glasses broke upon impact made Ginny wince and cry out. She wiggled frantically against the massive, scaly, white surface that was wrapped around her body.

And then… the surface _shifted_.

A massive, emerald-green, lidless eye swam past her in the dark and a booming female voice shouted inside her head, _**"Be sstill until sshe wakess sspeaker, or I sshall crussh you!"**_

Ginny's jaw fell open as she recognized the enormous head. It was Alice, but she was a hundred times her normal size.

Amazed that she could suddenly hear the snake, she excitedly shouted "Alice! I can finally understand you! How?"

That was not, however, what emerged from her mouth. Her tongue _rolled_ sickeningly of its own accord and strange hissing syllables erupted from her vocal cords.

Quite suddenly, the massive eye was inches away from her face.

"_**You are not the Riddle sspeaker… your tongue iss different. Who are you?"**_

Horrible realization sank into Ginny's body, or rather… _into_ _Tom's body._ Trembling with disgust, she replied, "Alice, it's me! I'm Ginny! Tom's soul has… well… I think it's gone."

"_**You cannot be Harry sspeaker'ss Ginny human. Her body liess there. It hass been dead for dayss."**_

Ginny's eyes widened when she saw what Alice's enormous head had jabbed at through the dark and she quickly averted her gaze from the gruesome sight. She only remembered vague bits of the torture Tom had inflicted upon her and she didn't want to remember anymore.

"_**Who are you truly?"**_

Ginny shook her head fiercely. "I'm Ginny, Alice! Really! Tom… He… He devoured my soul. I swear on my magic!"

Alice bared her massive fangs.

"_**We sshall go to the ssilver-bearded human. SShould you be lying, sspeaker, I sshall devour you whole."**_

"Deal," hissed Ginny quickly. "Take me to him, Alice! We can come back for Harry after."

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"I don't feel right about this."

Sirius' eyes popped open.

"Quiet, Dawlish. I don't like it either, but orders are orders… no matter how distasteful. Besides, it's not like the bastard doesn't deserve it."

"No one deserves it, Scrimgeour. Not even You-Know-Who. Some say you don't pass on; that your soul stays in their bellies even after your body dies."

Sirius' heart began to pound furiously as a warm silver light poured through the barred window of his cell-door. Dumbledore's words bounced around his brain.

'_It will likely be some time before the plan is put into action, but when the time comes, when the door opens, use it well.'_

Gripping his wand tightly, he sank into the darkness beside the door.

_This is it. The time is now._

"Who says that, Dawlish? Not like anyone ever comes back to tell the tale, now do they? Anyway… this is Black's."

The shadow of a head obscured the silver glow, throwing the cell once more into darkness.

"I don't see him," muttered the voice that Sirius recognized as Dawlish's.

"He's probably huddled in a corner just like the rest of 'em. I'll never understand why they huddle. S'not like it lessens the effect of the Dementors. Go on then. Open it and let's get this over with."

The magical deadlock clicked and, for the first time in nearly eleven years, the cell's door swung open.

Not wasting a second, Sirius spun into the light and shot two non-verbal Stunners into the chests of those he once called fellow Aurors. The second the spells hit the two men, their patronuses were snuffed out like doused candles and Sirius was plunged back into the familiar icy chill. He quickly conjured his own before the dark, shadowy figures of the Dementors managed to overtake them. Ignoring the jeers of Rabastan and Bellatrix, Sirius dragged the two men inside his cell, walked out, and shut the door behind him.

The rest of the prisoners began to scream their protest as they realized that he, the lone innocent, was successfully making an escape.

Sirius shouted hoarsely to the surrounding cells, "Farewell, evil buggers! It's been most enjoyable! Do have a pleasant stay without me!"

Transforming into a dog, he darted toward the stairs with his large wolf patronus at his heels. The Dementors that floated through the spiral stairwell screeched angrily as he ran past them, but made no effort to attack with the wolf snarling threateningly at them.

The ground floor was unusually silent. Not a single Auror was patrolling the corridors. While Azkaban never had more than one squad guarding it at once, there should have at least been _some_ human resistance in the High Security Wing.

_Has the detail changed? Or… perhaps they've been stationed elsewhere. Lucky me._

Sirius ran through wing after wing, focusing on nothing but his innocence and his goddaughter as he charged through the endless sea of black-hooded monsters.

_I'm coming, Harry._

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Groaning in exhaustion as she slid out of her memory, Harry awoke to the sound of hysterical sobs, the familiar sight of the Hospital wing, and the sensation of numb limbs.

"Hey mate," whispered a nervous voice on her right. "You alright?"

Harry turned her head and Ron's sky-blue eyes swam into view. The boy's fingers entwined with her own.

"I'm alright," she croaked weakly, running her thumb over the top of his hand. "You?"

"Not bloody good!" Ron placed his forehead down upon her arm. "If you _ever_ leave me behind like that again, I'll let everyone know that you sing '_A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love'_ while you're in the shower. D-Do you understand me, Harry?"

Giggling softly, Harry ran her hand consolingly through his red hair. "I'm sorry. I couldn't wait around. I… I had to go after her, Ron."

"Yeah. Well, you still should have-"

A fresh bout of loud sobs from the other side of the partition cut through the redhead's protests.

At Harry's questioning glance, Ron answered sadly, "Mum. She's a wreck over Ginny. Everyone is, really. I can't believe you're holding it together like this."

At the mention of the name 'Ginny,' memories from what seemed like a lifetime ago came rushing back to the forefront of Harry's mind. Sitting bolt upright, she grasped for her glasses and asked frantically, _"Ron?_ Where's Ginny? How long has it been?"

Ron sighed unhappily. "_Harry_, you… you need to calm down. I know it's hard to accept, but-"

"Oh _shut it_, Ron! You don't understand! Just tell me how long I've been here!"

The redhead sat back, looking slightly hurt. "I dunno. Half an hour? Dumbledore took Riddle down the second he came out of the Chamber and then he went in after you and Ginny."

Harry grabbed Ron's shoulders and shook him roughly. "No! Ron, Ginny _is_ Riddle! Where is she? Where's Tom's body?"

Ron's mouth fell open. "I… Dumbledore's office, I expect. Harry… what's going _on?_"

"Help me up!" cried Harry excitedly. "Take me there!"

Ron didn't move.

"NOW, RON!"

The boy slowly shook his head, seemingly unwilling to meet her eyes. "No. I _can't,_ Harry. Dumbledore said you're not allowed to leave the Hospital wing. He… Well, he thinks you're not all there. And… and I agree. I mean… _Blimey,_ Harry, you used the bloody Imperius Curse!"

Harry's excited grin faded.

Clearly expecting some explosion of evil to come pouring off of her at his words, Ron had inched away from her and the little flinching movement made Harry's heart wrench painfully.

"No… _Ron_… I'm still me. I just… Look, go get Dumbledore. Tell him to bring Tom and I'll explain everything."

Ron, however, still seemed hesitant, so Harry leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek, before punching him solidly in the arm. "See!" she said matter-of-factly. "Harrymort wouldn't have done that. Please, Ron, go get him."

The redhead slowly nodded, stood, turned to leave, and took two steps before rounding on Harry once more. In a deadly voice he whispered, "If you've taken Harry over… If you've hurt her… Well, V-V-Voldemort or not… I'll make you pay."

Harry leaned back into the pillows, staring after Ron as he left; disheartening thoughts running rampant through her mind. Was she _really_ still the same person? Even though the premise of it had disgusted her, actually _using_ Herpo's dark magics had felt… _good. _The total control she had wielded over Madame Dupont had been intoxicating and a part of her was itching to use the Imperius curse once more. She had felt powerful as Tom writhed helplessly beneath her wand; had felt righteous as the cause of her pain screamed with his _own_ agony. She had finally felt free as all of her hate and anger had poured out of her body in a stream of crimson light.

Harry wanted desperately to believe that Harrymort had been influencing her; that it wasn't her fault. However, at the back of her mind, a tiny logical voice that sounded oddly like Hermione continued to toss this idea out of the window.

_YOU were still in control. YOU wanted Tom to scream. YOU wanted him to hurt like he hurt Ginny; like he hurt you. Voldemort and the books merely gave you the means and the justification to do it. You're sick. You're just like him. You're making it easy for him to get in. Ron was spot on last year. Dark Lord Potter coming thr- _

"H-Hush now, Harry, dear," whispered a soft, sad voice through a jumble of tearful hiccups, interrupting Harry's miserable train of thought. The warm familiar arms of Mrs. Weasley encircled her shoulders in a tight hug. The crying woman had somehow slipped through the curtains to sink down onto the bed without Harry's notice.

Small sobs that Harry only just now realized she had been crying derailed into great heaving gasps of anguish that wracked her entire body. Collapsing into the plump bosom of the only mother she had ever really known, Harry mumbled brokenly, "I'm sorry! I-I didn't… I didn't mean to do it! I was… I didn't… I… I… _I'm sorry!"_

"There there," shushed Mrs. Weasley, brushing her fingers through Harry's hair. "E-Everything will be _just_ f-fine. Y-You'll see, love."

Nodding, Harry buried her eyes into Mrs. Weasley's shirt and proceeded to let go of all of the hurt she had been holding on to for the past month. She stayed that way, curled up against the matronly redhead, long after her tears had abated. Even though the woman was often temperamental and boisterous, there was something extremely calming about Mrs. Weasley. It might have been the lingering scent of baked bread that was burnished into her clothing, or perhaps it was the way she held herself; open and welcoming. Harry didn't know, nor did she really care. This was what she had bee needing for quite some time; she had needed someone to lean on.

Harry's heart slowed considerably and she was just beginning to drift into the realm of sleep, when the door to the Hospital wing slammed open. She didn't need to look past the curtains to know who it was that was entering. With every passing night she spent with her core flipped, she was becoming increasingly aware of the magic that surrounded her and the wash of power that had just flooded into the room was akin to a tidal wave crashing across her mind.

The Headmaster's calm wheeze rang softly through the ward, "Poppy? I need you."

The medical jargon that erupted between Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore was extremely difficult for Harry to follow, but she _was_ able to successfully interpret that they were examining Ginny's body and that something strange about the state of the corpse had suddenly jumped out at them.

"Poppy, observe the cerebral tissue. It lives without blood and has a distinct lack of degradation, yet the rest of the body is all but destroyed."

"My word!" whispered Madam Pomfrey in shock. "How is that possible, Albus?"

"For the life of me, I could not begin to answer such a question. The only other recorded case of such preservation after bodily death lies in the next bed."

Harry sat up, her eyes widening.

"I'll contact St. Mungo's immediately for the restoration specialists," muttered Madam Pomfrey, her hard-heeled shoes clicking away towards her office.

The partition around Harry's bed parted and through the gap stepped the Headmaster... followed by Tom Riddle.

The tall boy's hands were bound behind his back in a pair of glowing shackles made from pure, purple light. Their eyes met… and he smiled toothily at Harry.

_Oh… Gin! It really… It really is you!_

Harry leapt out of the bed and hugged her best friend tightly, which caused Mrs. Weasley to squawk with indignant fury. The raging woman spluttered and pulled out her wand, pointing it at the vessel of her daughter, but Professor Dumbledore promptly stepped between them. "I must ask you to remain calm, Molly. I do not understand it myself, but whatever remains of your daughter's soul currently resides in the body of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Do sit down. I believe I have a firm grasp of one side of the story... but it is now time for the other. Harry... if you would?"

Mrs. Weasley collapsed back onto the bed, her mouth falling open in shock. She was staring at Ginny with fear, anger, and… _need._

Harry noticed that after Dumbledore had settled himself in a conjured armchair, he didn't sheath his wand. Instead, the Headmaster left it in plain view upon his lap; an obvious sign that he did not believe she was in her right mind. While that was troubling in itself, a larger concern pressed to the forefront of her whirling thoughts.

"Sir," she said quietly, staring at the wizened man in apprehension. "That… your wand… I've… I've seen it before."

The Headmaster raised his eyebrow. "Before? I take it you mean that you have seen it in another's hand apart from my own and the man's from whom I took it?"

Harry nodded rapidly.

Dumbledore frowned. "That is a story for another time. Where, Harry, did you see my wand?"

Harry closed her eyes in disgust as a sickening sight flashed across her mind. A small, disemboweled girl lay upon a stone alter and a white-haired man holding a notched wand knelt above the body, a beating, human heart clenched within his fist. Quietly, Harry muttered, "It was made by the wizard that made that throne; Herpo the Foul. His grandson killed him with it. I'm sure it's the same one. I saw Herpo duel with it."

Dumbledore's frown deepened. "You saw him duel?"

Harry folded her arms and asked earnestly, "Can't you just look at my memories, sir? I… Well, it's a bit complicated."

"Alas, Harry, I cannot; not when I am unsure that you are yourself. In his prime, Voldemort was a truly gifted user of Occlumency and Legilimency; far more gifted than I. Should I enter his mind, I would most assuredly find myself at his mercy. Please, attempt to explain with words."

Harry found it hard to put her experience with the whispering books into intensive detail, but halfway through her hole-ridden explanation, the Headmaster held up his hand for her to stop. "These books, do you remember their names?"

"Madame Pomfrey called them the Books of Slithering Pain… but they didn't have titles. There was just an image of a snake with its name on the first page." Harry shuddered as the feeling of the replica of Alice sliding up her esophagus came back to her in full force. "I'm relatively positive that they were basic non-runed pensieves, sir… and… and they… they made me make one I think."

Professor Dumbledore nodded gravely and withdrew from the pocket of his outer robe a small square of metal. Placing it on the table, he tapped it with his wand. Before Harry's eyes, the square unfolded like a newspaper and from within its depths, four, dark-green, leather-bound books rose like apples bobbing in water. Professor Dumbledore flicked his wand and the books soared neatly into Harry's lap. He looked at her pointedly.

Tentatively reaching out a finger, Harry touched the cover of the top-most book. Thankfully, just like before, there was no pain.

The Headmaster sighed heavily and casually took one of the books from her lap. "It seems, Harry, that you are correct. The creation of such replicating pensieves is an ancient magic. Not even I recognized these books for what they were. I assume that these _crude _pensieves, which were once enchanted to cause pain to anyone that touches their covers, have indeed been emptied of their contents directly into your mind. While this troubles me greatly, I am ready to believe that the magic you performed on Madame Dupont did not stem from the afterimage of Voldemort. Lay back. The rest of the information I shall glean from your mind.

The exchange took the rest of the night. When Professor Dumbledore's touch finally withdrew from her mental corridor and Harry too was able to exit her memories, the hospital wing had become dark, Ginny had fallen asleep, and Mrs. Weasley had left the small space enclosed by the partition for parts unknown.

The wizened man sank back into his chair and closed his eyes. He didn't speak for several minutes and Harry thought he might've fallen asleep, so she leaned over to tap his hand. However, as soon as she had moved, Dumbledore wheezed quietly, "One moment, if you will, Harry. I have just discovered far more about the depravity of my former student than I ever wished to know. He has taken much from me in my lifetime… but never did I think he could take away my hope. Being as old as I am, I simply need a moment to recover."

Harry frowned, leaning back into her pillows.

_Voldemort took away his hope? Hope for what?_

When Dumbledore finally opened his eyes, Harry was ready to fall asleep herself. The old wizard stood up and sat back down upon the edge of her bed. Taking her hand in his, he smiled at her and said softly, "I am most proud of you, Harriet; most proud indeed."

Harry grimaced sleepily. Out of everything she had been expecting him to say, that was at the bottom of the list. "I… I don't think you should be, sir. I wanted revenge… I used the dark arts-"

"You wanted revenge for the loss of someone you love deeply," interrupted Dumbledore sagely. "Not even the most pure-hearted man would hold such a desire against you, Harry. As for your use of dark spells… You are resisting the temptation to use black magic again, are you not? You know in your heart that it is wrong to use them and _that_ is what sets you apart, Harry. The dark arts are so named not simply because they are unseemly in effect, but because their use corrupts our very nature. They tempt us with power we do not earn, offer us control that is not ours to take, and gift us with an unnatural ability to instill fear in the bravest of souls. Those witches and wizards who willingly submit to such feelings lose not only their innocence, but everything that makes them human. I am proud, Harry, because you have not allowed the vast sea of dark knowledge that courses through your mind to taint your humanity. I am proud, because you have not allowed the harsh magics that your brain likens to be your own creation to corrupt that which makes you Harriet Potter. I am proud… because your soul is far stronger than any I have ever encountered; far stronger than my own."

Harry curled up and muttered, "I hope you're right, sir. Do you think… Will Madame Dupont report me?"

Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively, "Dominique faces serious charges herself. The full compulsion of a Veela's charm is stronger than any Imperius curse. Using it on a minor would earn her a hefty sentence indeed. No… She has agreed to remain quiet if you agree to do the same."

Frowning, Harry asked, "What's a Veela?"

The Headmaster chuckled. "A most amazing magical specimen, Harry. I admit that I'm not surprised she could affect you so. Your sensitivity to magic is growing at a tremendous-"

One of the St. Mungo's medi-witches stuck her head through the partition, interrupting them. "Headmaster Dumbledore, we have finished… but…" The healer trailed off, shaking her head lightly.

Harry leapt out of bed and darted through the curtains, not liking the tone of the healer's voice.

The world around her seemed to slow as her gaze locked onto a bright pair of amber gold-flecked eyes that were staring intently back at her.

Harry squealed excitedly and rushed forward, but the look on Ginny's face made her stop dead.

The redhead's expression was… _blank._

"Oh, blimey!" exclaimed Tom's sleepy yet shocked voice from behind Harry. "That's a bit odd to see. Is this how the twins feel when they're looking at each other?"

Harry turned to the boy who was peeking out of the curtain and pleaded desperately, "Gin, can't you… Can't you jump back into your body or something? They fixed it all up! See?"

"I'm afraid it is not that simple," wheezed Professor Dumbledore, tilting the chin of Ginny's emotionless face upwards in examination. "In her current state, I believe that the child known as Ginevra Weasley may just be the most complicated being in all of existence."

"But… But I'm right here," said Tom, giving a small nervous wave.

"No," replied Dumbledore shortly. "I'm afraid, Miss Weasley, that you are not. Come, sit back down. I shall try to explain."

Harry plopped down next to Tom upon her bed. "Sir, is … is Ginny going to be stuck like this?"

The Headmaster sighed as he lowered himself back into his armchair. "The answer to that question, Harry, is a complicated one. Where to begin? Hmmm. Ah. Are you familiar with cogs?"

Dumbledore waved his wand and three floating wheels of varying sizes appeared before them. Upon closer inspection, Harry saw that each wheel had little notches around the outside that seemed as if they would fit into the notches of the other wheels.

"The mind, the body, and the soul act very much like a series of cogs moving in tandem. Imagine if you will that the smallest cog is the soul; our life-source; the very source of the chain's movement." Dumbledore waved his wand again and the small cog began to spin. "The second largest cog shall be mind." He levitated the larger wheel so that it attached beneath the first, where it too began to spin due to the smaller gear's rotation. "And the largest cog shall be body." He attached the biggest wheel beneath the second. "Observe. Three cogs powered by the movement of one. Now… watch.

Dumbledore vanished the two lower wheels. "When we die, our bodies and minds fade, leaving our souls behind. The soul is given a choice: to pass on… or to linger as an otherworldly spirit. What makes the two of you so odd, is that neither of you were given that choice when your body died. In your case, Harry, your mind was miraculously preserved by magic. Both it and your soul remained attached to your decaying body, which was eventually healed, allowing your full return. Restoring your dead tissue was an easy enough feat. However, restoring knowledge and thought to your mind if it had faded with the dead body would have been nigh impossible. When brain tissue dies or is damaged, the impulses within are most usually erased. Thus, we do not attempt to resurrect the dead. While the body and brain can be restored, they would be nothing but empty shells without memory and a soul to power them."

Dumbledore conjured the cogs once more. "You, Ginny, are a much stranger oddity. Your brain, like Harry's, was immersed in magic." He flicked his wand and the topmost wheel vanished. "Yet your soul was removed from your body long before it died. _This_ is the reason you have not returned; you are bound to two bodies and two minds. The body and mind of Ginny Weasley lie behind that curtain. _You_ are Tom Riddle's body and mind powered by Ginny Weasley's soul."

Tom frowned. "But _I'm _Ginny! I… I have all my memories and… stuff."

Dumbledore nodded and pulled from his robes a black book that was impaled by a very large yellowing fang. "Every soul carries an imprint of memory and thought. Take for example this diary, inside which Tom Riddle placed a part of his own soul. It thought and acted exactly like his real sixteen year-old self. It was able to create a body and mind from the imprinted memory. In this peculiar case, _y__our_ imprint simply moved into Tom's mind after his soul and imprint had passed on. I daresay that it is very much like renting a flat in the sense that it isn't yours, but you live within it and care for it as your own. In my younger years, I came upon a very nice little flat in Winchester. The walls were a most exquisite shade of periwinkle and the carpet was a lovely magenta."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

The Headmaster chuckled. "Ah yes… you're quite right. Perhaps not the most relevant of details in this trying time."

The boy sitting next to her fiddled anxiously with the hem of Harry's hospital gown, just like Ginny would do with her dresses when she was upset. "But… how do I get back? I can't… I can't _stay_ like this!"

"Do not fret, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore wheezed gently. "I have encountered in my travels a vast wealth of magic dealing with the mind and the soul. I believe that as soon as you perform an act that goes against Tom Riddle's very nature, the mind you inhabit will recognize that you are not Tom and will cast your soul out of his body, allowing you to return to your own."

"What sort of an act?" asked Tom morosely, clearly disappointed that there was not an immediate solution.

Dumbledore shrugged and smiled genially. "I haven't the slightest."

Harry's eyes bulged and Tom moaned with misery.

Dumbledore quickly added, "I should think that you, Miss Weasley, would know best. You are now more intimate with the intricacies of Tom Riddle than any other."

Tom flopped backwards onto the bed, shutting his eyes tightly in frustrated concentration.

The wizened man stood from his armchair and said, "I think it best that we end our exploration of life's mysteries here for tonight. I have often found that too much thinking causes most severe headaches. Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley anxiously await your return to the Gryffindor common rooms where I believe your mother has explained the situation to your family and friends. As Molly thought it slightly improper for you to sleep in the boy's dormitories and the castle will not allow your entrance to the girl's, a special room has been set up for your use, Miss Weasley. Harry, your snake is in the care of Hagrid. I assume you know how to return it to its proper size?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Then I shall take my leave. I'm sure the two of you have much to talk about after so long apart."

Without another word, the Headmaster swept out of the Hospital wing in a swirl of purple robes. Hesitating for only a moment, Harry chased after him. "Professor Dumbledore, sir, please wait!"

Dumbledore paused next to a portrait of an ugly, warty wizard that was teaching trolls how to dance. As if he knew what she wanted to ask, he wheezed apprehensively, "How can I help you, Harry?"

Harry had trouble forming words, mainly because she didn't want confirmation of what was surely to be bad news. "It… It doesn't take an alchemist, sir. Why haven't you… you know… done it? I mean to say… That's what the afterimage is, isn't it? A bit of his… his soul, yeah? That's why I have his powers! So… So… why haven't you killed me?"

The Headmaster's shoulders visibly seemed to sag. "Alas, Harry, you are far too perceptive for your own good. The soul fragment trapped within your own does not mean that you must be murdered. It means that someday you will have to choose between doing what is right… and doing what is easy."

"What does that even _mean_, sir?" cried Harry angrily. "Please, I don't understand! Why is it in _me_? Why is it _always_ me?"

Professor Dumbledore sighed. "I cannot, in truth, answer that, Harry. One day, you shall learn for yourself I'm sure. All I'll say is that responsibility for the safety of the weak has and always will fall upon the shoulders of the strong."

More confused than she was before she had asked him, Harry watched dejectedly as Dumbledore turned the corner and slipped out of sight.

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After activating the old wards, Sirius collapsed exhaustedly onto his bed in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. It would be safe to stay here for the night, as the absence of Dawlish and Scrimgeour would not be reported to the Head of the Auror Office until rounds had been completed the next day.

A bang and a whine echoed up through the floor from downstairs.

"Kreacher," Sirius shouted. "You miserable old snot! Bring me up some tea… and don't you dare try to slip me anything!"

A loud stream of grumbling and cursing reached his ears and he smiled. Tormenting the old elf that had slipped roaches and spiders into his bedding after he had been sorted into Gryffindor was a favorite pastime that Sirius could not deny himself.

The decrepit House-elf cracked into the room noisily with tea that had been poured into some of the grimiest teacups Sirius had ever seen.

"Your tea, _Master,"_ the elf said ungraciously. He went on to mutter nastily under his breath, "_Kreacher thinks dishonorable Master Sirius should have stayed in Azkaban. Kreacher and his mistress were well off without him._"

"Shut it, you!" Sirius took off his shoe and flung it towards the elf with wild abandon, but Kreacher cracked away long before it hit him.

Flopping back onto the bed, Sirius stared around at the many pictures that covered his walls and ceiling. There were tens of photos depicting different motorbikes that he couldn't remember the names of, several pinups of young, scantily-clad, muggle girls that barely did a thing for his thirty-three-year-old libido, and a somewhat sizable magical portrait containing himself, his two very best friends, and the man that he would soon find… and kill.

"But first," he whispered softly, plucking from his bedside table the photograph that Lily and James had sent him on Harry's first birthday. "First, I need to see her."

He dragged his thumb across the dusty picture to reveal the three faces within it. James had his arm wrapped around Lily and between them they were cuddling their little girl, who was fast asleep wrapped in her little blue blanket. A surge of anger, the likes of which he had not felt in nearly eleven years, burst through his body. The glass of the picture frame cracked in one corner from his tightening grip.

"I'm sorry, James, Lils. I'm so sorry. It's… It's my fault."

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Ginny rapped her body smartly on the head with her knuckles. "Come on, Ginger, up you get. That's enough breakfast. We've got to go and pack."

"No," Ginger replied emotionlessly. "Food. More. Food. More."

"I'm never going to bloody get used to this," grumbled Ron, grumpily shoveling some mash into his mouth. "Why can't we call _you_ something else and call _her_ Ginny?"

"Stuff it, brother dear," said Ginny, turning her nose up at him. She was constantly turning up her nose at people now; even to Harry. All of Tom's little subconscious habits were absolutely unavoidable. The worst was the eyelash plucking. Her hands would do it of their own accord whenever she was distracted.

Harry spooned some more eggs onto Ginger's plate. "We've been over this a hundred times, Ron. It's her decision. She's the soul, so she wears the pants… literally."

"Pants," agreed Ginny's body. "Food. More."

Ginny giggled. "See? She's all for it. Aren't you, Ginger?"

"Ginger. Food. More."

"Still," argued Ron. "It's ruddy weird."

Hermione smacked him upside the head.

"Oi!" shouted Ron indignantly. "What was that for?"

"Oh, nothing really," said Hermione, smiling privately to Ginny. "I just thought you looked up for a good whack."

The pair proceeded into their daily bickering.

Ginny nodded thankfully to Hermione when Ron wasn't looking. The subject of her soul's entrapment within Tom's body made her extremely uncomfortable. She had spent two months searching desperately for an act that went against Tom's nature to no avail. She had kissed Colin Creevey; she had run naked through the common room; she had shot a Filibuster firework at Snape's head; she had gone swimming with the giant squid. She had done every embarrassing thing she could think of and yet she still remained in his body.

"Gin, leave Ginger here." Harry reached out to grab Grinny's hand, but let her arm fall to her side at the last second, blushing profusely. "I'll take care of her, you go pack up."

Frowning, Ginny left the hall. She hated that they didn't touch anymore; hated that she had to spend her nights alone with Tom's horrific nightmares, in which she would experience every terrible death imaginable. But she herself insisted that it had to be this way. The last thing Harry needed was a malevolent seventeen-year-old boy groping her just because Ginny didn't know how to control her new body's urges.

**/FLASHBACK/**

Ginny sat up in bed as the door to her new dormitory swung open of its own accord and then quickly shut itself. Seconds later, the bed sank with weight and the invisibility cloak slithered inch-by-inch off Harry's lithe pajama-clad body. Slowly, without saying a word, the black-haired girl crawled forward across the sheets, her sparkling green eyes sleep-ridden and heavy lidded.

Ginny still couldn't get over how much older Harry looked after nearly five months apart. It was neither her obvious physical growth, nor the distinct curve of her breasts, nor the unkempt state of her hair that made the girl seem all that different. It was rather the weary glaze of exhaustion and age that covered her eyes. It was as if Ginny was looking once more into the hardened emerald gaze she had seen on the platform last year.

Harry straddled Ginny's hips and leaned down to nuzzle her cheek. "I've missed you so much. I can't pretend that you're not Ginny anymore. You act and talk exactly like her. You… You feel the same when I augment my magic."

A surge of hot, strange electricity burned through Ginny's body as Harry's breath tickled her ear. Trying to accustom herself to their intense bodily size difference, she slowly asked, "I thought… I thought you were going to sleep in our room with Ginger tonight?"

Harry shook her head, sinking down to rest against Ginny's chest. "I tried. She's not you, Gin; not the part I care about. She just… She's like some sort of doll; always talking in monotone single-syllable sentences. It hurts my heart to think that she's Ginny."

Ginny wrapped her arms around the girl, breathing in the fresh piney scent of her hair. The ache that constantly plagued her chest was suddenly soothed. "Then don't, Harry. Gods, I was alone with Tom for so long and… he was _so_ cruel. I… I _need_ you to stay. Please stay with me."

"I will," Harry whispered brokenly. "Always. I... I can't _do_ this life without you, Gin. I'm not... I'm not strong enough. When I saw your body in the Chamber, I… I as good as died with you."

Ginny placed a light kiss upon her best friend's jaw. "I held on as long as I could to keep him from going after you and my brothers, but Tom got stronger as I got weaker. I'm so glad he was pompous enough to wait for you. I still can't believe you beat him."

"He hurt you," Harry said matter-of-factly, rolling over onto her back. "He had to pay. I would have done whatever I needed to do. But, you know, it was really all thanks to Alice."

Ginny cuddled into Harry's side, resting her cheek on the girl's soft sweet-smelling skin. "Where is she anyway?"

Harry closed her eyes and sank back into the pillow. "Reconnecting with Frances, I expect. Tonight is the first night she's been able to fit through the portrait hole, but she won't be her normal size for another week."

"I like when she h-huh-hums," Ginny mumbled with a tremendous yawn. "It's nice."

"Yeah," agreed Harry sleepily, her own yawn shifting her chest upwards. "Hey, Gin?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't ever write in a talking book again, okay? Talking books are bad."

Ginny nodded and closed her eyes. "Okay."

That night, the black-haired girl's moans didn't start until Ginny was halfway into the realm of sleep. Something very odd happened to her when she heard that moan. It was as if a large portion of her blood had suddenly rushed to her lower body, making her groin tingle.

Ginny sat up, gently untangling herself from Harry, who groaned loudly and grasped at the bed-sheets that she had just vacated. Harry's cheeks were flushed a brilliant shade of red and the little panting breaths she made in between moans gave Ginny gooseflesh.

_I… I thought this was only supposed to happen when she smells strawberries? I don't smell like strawberries, do I?_

Lifting her shirt to her nose, Ginny took a deep breath and frowned at the heavy scent of soap that was intermingling with something else; something not from her shirt; something that was lingering in the air. It was a very faint odor, but Tom's nose could definitely pick it out. It was a bit musky like sweat, but it was decidedly different; it was headier and thicker, almost spicy.

Quite suddenly, the boy bits that she was still getting the hang of throbbed pleasantly with her heartbeat. A strong urge to touch herself flooded through her mind, drowning out all other rational thought. Obediently reaching into the elastic waistband of the transfigured pajamas that her mother had made her, Ginny gave herself a good solid stroke.

She almost screamed out loud at the feeling.

_Another!_

Memories that weren't her own invaded her mind, just as they had done while she had been learning first-year magic over the past week. However, instead of experiencing déjà-vu scenarios involving classrooms and wand movements, Ginny was thrust into a stream of very graphic bedroom scenes. Countless, young, teenage girls moaned beneath her as she shagged them roughly. Even visions of a few boys on all fours careened past her eyes.

_Another!_

"Oh blimey."

_Another!_

Kneeling over Harry and panting with pleasure, Ginny pumped the now rock-solid shaft, amazed that anything could feel this good. Like magnets, her eyes were drawn to her sleeping friend's face and curves. Ginny knew that Harry was a beautiful girl, but in that moment, she saw it for herself.

Harry looked more than divine. Her black hair was splayed across the pillow like a halo; her full lips were mouthing little prayer-like 'o's; her emerald green tank, it's straps hanging of her shoulders, had ridden up her chest to reveal the bottoms of creamy alabaster mounds.

Ginny shouted loudly as her groin tightened…and… _released_.

Something sticky shot into her hand and she fell into Harry's body, completely exhausted.

"G-Gin?" asked Harry sleepily, still panting from her reactions to her magic. "What-"

"Get out, Harry!" Ginny yelled miserably, interrupting her. "Please!"

Harry sat up, clearly shocked. "What? No! Ginny, what's _wrong_?"

Ginny withdrew her hand from her pajama bottoms, holding up the result of her episode. "I couldn't resist doing it! Tom's body just started _reacting!_ I was thinking about you! Please, Harry, go before I do something else!"

"But-"

Ginny placed her burning hot face into the bedding and screamed out, "I'M _NOT_ GOING TO LET HIM TOUCH YOU LIKE THAT! NOW GO!"

Harry stayed just long enough to lean down and place a kiss on Ginny's cheek before jumping out of the bed, grabbing her invisibility cloak, and darting from the room.

**/END/**

Ginny covered her face with her hands as the moving staircase lifted her to the seventh floor. She wanted this nightmare to end. She wanted to stop shaving her face. She wanted to stop having to aim when she urinated. She wanted to stop staring at Harry's arse all day and night. It was maddening.

The rest of the day flew by for Ginny and before she knew it, she was boarding the Hogwarts Express after the worst year of her life. Harry pulled her to the last compartment on the train, with Ron, Hermione, Ginger, and, surprisingly, Luna in tow.

The blonde girl spent the entire train ride staring at Harry with a hungry look that made Ginny feel extremely wary. It was the same look that Luna always adopted before she went off on a quest to capture some strange creature.

As the train pulled into Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Ginny leaned over to Harry and whispered under her breath, "I'm going with you."

Harry's green eyes widened, but she said nothing.

Her mother and father greeted her kindly, but it wasn't overflowing with the warmth Ginny was used to. Mum seemed to have the idea that Ginny was not a _real_ person, but rather a lifeless thing that was holding the soul of her daughter captive. She didn't hold it against them though. It was actually a good thing, considering what she was about to demand.

"Mum, Dad," she said bravely to their turned backs as they hugged Ron. "I'm… I'm not going with you this summer. I'm going with Harry."

Her mother whirled around, glaring at her. "You are most certainly n-"

Ginny cut her off abruptly. "Yes, Mum, I am! I'd be a stranger in my own house. This body is seventeen, so I'm going and you can't stop me. You can take my body with you."

Dad stepped forward and put his hand on Mum's shoulder before she exploded with rage. "Ginny is right, dear. We can't stop her. I even think it might be better this way. Harry will have someone to look after her with the Muggles."

Mum swelled indignantly, but a calm wheezing voice interrupted before she could say a word. "What a _splendid_ idea! I daresay it didn't even cross my mind. The follies of old age, I suppose."

Ginny turned to face the Headmaster, only to jump back in fright when she came nose to nose with a massive black dog that had reared up on its hind legs. Growling fiercely, it put its paws on her shoulders and glared at her with inquisitive, intelligent, blue-grey eyes.

Harry quickly stepped between them and pushed the dog away, whipping out her wand to point it threateningly at the giant feral-looking animal.

"There is no need for that, Harry," said Dumbledore, chuckling lightly. "He means no harm to you or your friends. It has been _quite_ a long time since Snuffles here has been out of my brother's pub and he is most excited. Isn't that right, Snuffles?"

The massive dog barked affirmatively, sat down, and happily wagged its tail.

Harry giggled and tentatively held out her hand to the dog, which rolled over onto its back to allow her, Ginny, and the many surrounding Weasleys to rub its belly.

Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "Very well, Molly. As previously arranged, I shall accompany Harry and Ginny to Privet Drive. Do make your goodbyes quickly, ladies. We have much to accomplish both before and after arrival at Number Four."

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"Later, you tossers," grunted Malcolm, turning off onto Charles Avenue.

"Say hullo to your sister for me!" Piers shouted after him, elbowing Dudley and Dennis jovially. "That is, if you can find her underneath her bubbies!"

"I'm warning you, Polkiss, don't you go _near_ my sister," growled Malcolm.

"Tell that to her, mate! She nearly begged me to feel her up the other day."

Malcolm's fists visibly clenched, but he walked away without looking back.

"He's going to deck you if you don't stop ribbing him, Piers," warned Gordon as they walked on.

Piers shrugged. "It's the truth, it is. Melanie's a right slag. Don't tell Malcolm, but I met up with her yesterday. After we snogged for a bit, she pulled my hand into her knickers and told me to go at it. Redheads, mate. They're bloody _fantastic_."

"I don't believe that for a second," squeaked Dennis.

Piers crossed his heart. "Honest to God truth. Why do you think I told you lot I had to go shopping with me Mum? The bint lives all the way in London!"

"Blimey," exclaimed Gordon. "An older girl! Good on you, mate. Mel's a looker, she is. Not really my type though; too tall. I like the short ones. Say, Dud? Is that mad cousin of yours still around? The one that went to St. Martha's? Now _that_ was a piece of arse, even if she _was_ a nutter!"

"Erm… yeah," said Dudley slowly. "She's still around."

Piers frowned. He didn't remember Dudley ever mention having a cousin, but he had a strong nagging feeling that made him feel like he knew who Gordon was talking about.

Dennis and Gordon turned off onto their street, leaving Piers and Dudley alone on Privet Drive.

Piers probingly asked, "A cousin, eh? I don't remember her, Dud. Did she go to Stonewall Primary with us?"

Dudley shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. "Erm… yeah, bit of a wallflower. Alright, see you later, P."

"Yeah," mumbled Piers absentmindedly, trying to remember the faces of their Primary class. "See you, Big D."

He strolled down the darkened street slowly, occasionally kicking over bins or opening postboxes. As his family lived at the very end of Privet Drive, he had to find something to occupy his mind on the excruciatingly long walk from Number Four to Number Three-Hundred Twenty.

Piers came around the bend in the sidewalk and very nearly slammed into the tallest boy he had ever come across. "Watch where you're going, mate," he grumbled pugnaciously.

The willowy black-haired teen held up his hands in apology. "Sorry about that. I didn't see you."

Piers sneered, flipped the lanky boy the two-finger salute, and continued on his way.

As he was passing by the path that lead up to the old playground, a high-pitched slightly-squeaky voice rang out from behind the nearest house.

"Honestly Snuffles, I don't know what to do. I just want her back the way she used to be."

Piers froze, suddenly instilled with a strange sense of need. The voice was _achingly_ familiar, but, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't place it to a face. Stepping towards the house, he peered curiously around the corner.

Beneath a large, curved, elm tree sat a monstrous black dog. Leaning against the animal's flank was perhaps the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Her long black hair was wild and slightly spiky. Although she was specky, the wire-frame glasses resting upon her small nose complimented her thin face perfectly. The eyes behind them were the most mesmerizing shade of emerald green.

The girl tucked her hair back behind her ear. "I mean… something that goes against Tom's _'true nature.'_ How in the hell are we supposed to figure that out?"

Piers swallowed noisily and… _somehow_… she heard him.

Her piercing green stare locked onto him. Sparkling eyes widening, she pulled from her sleeve a thin piece of wood and pointed it at his face.

Piers frowned and stepped out from behind the house. "Sorry! Didn't mean to disturb you. Just thought I recognized your voice."

"Bugger off, Piers!" the girl spat venomously. "You're the second to last person on this earth that I want to see. The very last person isn't even human."

He physically backpedaled at the surprising bite in her tongue. "Erm… Sorry? Do I know you?"

The girl scoffed. "Don't you _dare_ act like you don't remember the seven years you and Dudley made me your punching bag. Last summer you… you…"

She trailed off, narrowing her eyes as if she was remembering something.

"'Last summer I'… what?"

"You really _don't_ remember," said the girl with a derisive laugh. "I'd forgotten that they obliviated you. They must have taken it _all_ away! Well, that's good. I don't _want_ a ruddy bleeding ponce like _you_ to remember me! Now… leave me alone!

"Now wait just one minute," said Piers angrily, moving toward her. "I've never met you before in my life!"

The second he stepped forward into the light that was streaming through the window of the house next to them, the enormous dog sitting beside the girl burst into motion. It lunged for him, baring its large fangs.

Terrified, Piers threw up his arms to shield his face… but the sting of the dog's bite never came.

Out of nowhere, strong hands wrapped around his collar and pushed him up against the wall.

A tall skeletal-looking man with waxy skin and a shag of black hair that he had clearly attempted to cut by himself was holding Piers' shirt in a vice grip. He had a neatly-trimmed beard and his sunken blue-grey eyes were narrowed with seething anger. Baring his yellowing teeth, the man growled hoarsely as if he had not used his voice in a very long time.

"I believe my Goddaughter asked you to leave. I think you should scamper before I decide to take a little… _nip..._ from your flesh."

The man shoved him roughly back into the street.

Piers didn't stop running until he was safely ensconced in his own bedroom.

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_The ground drew nearer and nearer as she plummeted through the sky. There was no avoiding it. She was going to land… and die._

_She was going to die._

_She was going to-_

Ginny sat up, gasping for breath. It took her several moments to realize why she was in a comfortable bed and not splattered across the pavement.

"Another dream?" asked a soft voice from the bed across the large room that was cluttered with Gryffindor decor.

Ginny nodded, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "It's always the same dream. I mean… it's different every time, but it always has the same brutal ending. How the bloke ever got any sleep is beyond me."

Harry giggled. "Maybe that's why he turned out to be such a bastard. To think all he ever really wanted was a nice long nap."

"Yeah," said Ginny, smiling as she stood up to stretch. "Something like that."

She hadn't told Harry about what had transpired within Tom's soul. If anyone ever asked what had happened to her while there, she wouldn't lie, but she wasn't going to just spit it out either. She felt like it was something to be kept private; something that should stay just between souls… and Professor Dumbledore, of course. She felt that she deserved to keep it to herself after all her suffering. To truly know that her worst nightmare had a tiny shred of humanity felt like a trophy of sorts; a weapon to use in the future.

Harry got out of bed and went to the ornate walk-in closet in the corner of the room. She turned the colored dial next to the door so that the arrow was pointing to yellow. Pulling open the door, she entered into the small room that now held both Ginny's and Harry's trunks and clothing.

Minutes later, Harry stepped out of the closet fully dressed for the day. Turning the dial to blue, she opened the door once more to reveal the fully equipped kitchen.

"I think we should go shopping, Gin," her friend shouted in a muffled voice, her head clearly buried within the Ever-Chilled Icebox_._ "You really don't have any clothes for Tom's body besides your school uniform. And… Well, when we figure out how to get you back to your body, you can give the clothes to Ron. I expect that he'll definitely be as tall as you are one day. What do you want for breakfast?"

Ginny mumbled ambiguously and flopped lazily onto the comfy couch, which cursed loudly at her. While Dumbledore had perfected his 'Happy Chairs,' his 'Happy Couches' still left much to be desired. The couch, however, was the only flaw in the gracious home Dumbledore had created for Harry within her bedroom at Number Four Privet Drive. The second they had entered the Dursley's abode four days ago, the old wizard had started his work on what could be considered a masterpiece of wizarding architecture. Ginny had the inkling that even if the entire house should be destroyed, Harry's bedroom would remain in place.

The 'two-way room,' as Ginny liked to call it, was complete with a large walk-in closet, a fully-equipped muggle kitchen minus anything that ran on eckletricity, a Hogwarts sized bathroom, a Gryffindor dormitory with four beds, and a parlor that contained Harry's original bedroom door, which was now enchanted with every ward and 'notice-me-not' spell imaginable. To access the many different areas, one simply had to close one of the two 'two-way' doors within each room and spin the dial to the appropriate room's color. Even though there was truly only _one_ room, at that very moment, Ginny was in the bedroom, while Harry was in the kitchen, while Snuffles, who Dumbledore had appointed as Harry's guard dog, was sleeping in his doggy-bed in the parlor. All the rooms existed within the same space, but they each sat in different dimensions.

There was rarely a need to venture into the Dursley household apart from exiting the house, doing the laundry with the washing machines as Scourgify charms made their clothes itchy, and performing, according to Harry, a much reduced list of daily chores in 'payment' for the Dursley's hospitality.

In fact, Ginny had barely seen Harry's family at all. Whenever the door to the 'two-way room' opened, the Dursleys always attempted to make themselves scarce. She was vaguely wondering what it was that Dumbledore had done to them to make them so frightened, when Harry called out, "Circe's here. Your mum sent you a letter, Gin."

Ginny dragged herself into the kitchen and plopped down at the breakfast table, covering her eyes from the sunlight. "Blimey, Tom _really_ isn't a morning person."

Harry put a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her. "Eat up. It'll make you feel better."

Ginny smiled as the girl walked back to the sink. "Thanks, Harry. Smells good."

Of the many reactions Harry could have given to that statement, tossing the frying pan into the sink and jumping into Ginny's lap were not ones that she had expected. "Har-Harry!"

Straddling Ginny's waist, Harry hugged her tightly and whispered into her ear, "That's the very first time anyone has _ever_ thanked me in this house."

Ginny blushed furiously at the feel of Harry's shapely bum pushing into her crotch. "Harry, y-you need to get off. I can't… I can't control-"

Harry interrupted her, blushing as well. "I don't _care,_ Gin. I really don't! It's his body, but it's _you_ on the inside. You dealt with my nightly reactions... and… and I understand what it's like to not be able to control stuff like that… so I… I don't mind if… if you need to… you know… _touch._"

Ginny looked away, totally embarrassed that her body wanted exactly what Harry was suggesting. "No, Harry! He's sick! He likes to hurt people like that! He likes to dominate them. I won't let him do that to you. Please, I'm begging you, get off."

"But… you'll never hurt me," Harry whispered breathily, leaning forward, her eyes flooding entirely green. "I know you won't. You're my Ginny."

Softly, slowly, she brushed her lips against Ginny's own.

The sensation was, in a word, _fantastic_. Shivers shot down her spine and made her bits quiver with excitement. Harry lips were moist, tasted faintly of chocolate, and fit nicely with Ginny's. The girl in her lap didn't really seem to know what she was doing, but Ginny's body, however, did. One of her hands slid inside Harry's sweatshirt to caress the small of her back, while the other slipped into the back of the girl's jeans beneath her knickers to firmly cup her arse.

It was Harry's moan of pleasure that brought Ginny out of it. She jumped up, nearly dropped her best friend on the floor, darted to the door, turned the dial to green for the bathroom, rushed through it, and locked herself into the nearest stall.

It must have been a full hour before Harry came in after her.

"Gin," said Harry quietly through the stall door. "Please come out. I'm sorry."

Ginny leaned against the wood that separated them. "I _really_ can't control this mind or body, Harry. Dumbledore told me that I'd have trouble with them. They're _not_ mine and I have no idea how to use them. This body wants to _own_ you. It wants to use you. It wants to break you and cast you aside! I _won't_ let that happen!"

"I know," cried Harry, her voice breaking with a loud shuddering sob. "I'm _sorry._ I've just… I've just missed you so much! When… When we slept in the same bed and I had the reactions again, it was like coming home after the worst day of my life. I finally knew it was really you… and _this_… it's not enough! It's like we're _still_ being kept apart! I thought if we… I thought if we made love he might cast you out. I want you back, Ginny! Please, come back. I love you so much. _Please!_"

"I don't know how. I don't know how, Harry!" Ginny slid down the door, running her hands through her short hair as she listened to Harry cry. "All I know about him is that he's a cruel heartless bastard and has dreams about his own death. I've tried everything!"

Eventually, Harry's sniffles slowly trailed away and she muttered softly, "No… you haven't. Tom might be naturally averse to shopping."

Ginny grinned and wiped her own eyes. "Yeah… maybe."

With Snuffles pattering along behind them, they spent the rest of the afternoon browsing through the small strip of stores next to Grunnings. The drill company, according to Harry, was where her Uncle was spending the workday turning purple, yelling at his underlings, and being generally unpleasant to everyone he came across.

After a very uncomfortable moment with a shopkeeper that overheard Ginny commenting that she wished she could have tried on a rather fetching red dress that had caught her eye, she decided that it was definitely time to stop their shopping trip early.

When they arrived back at the Dursley household, it was very nearly dark. They passed Dudley, who was on his way out, in the hall. The boy gave her a frightened look, covered his bottom, and quickly averted his gaze.

Even though they had both agreed to forget about it, the awkwardness of the morning's events was still hanging about the kitchen, so Ginny quietly skimmed the headlines of several Daily Prophets as Harry made dinner.

**BLACK EVADES CAPTURE; MINISTER STRIKES DOWN RUMORS OF INNOCENCE **

**GILDEROY LOCKHEART HINTS AT NEW NOVEL**

**AUROR SHACKLEBOLT TAKES POSITION OF HEAD AUROR; PRIME CANDIDATE SCRIMGEOUR SAYS 'NO COMMENT'**

**DAILY PROFIT OFFICIALS ORGANIZE PROCEEDINGS FOR ANNUAL GRAND PRIZE GALLEON DRAW **

**SELECTIVE MINISTRY FUNDING FOR UNDERPRIVELEGED HOGWARTS STUDENTS APPROVED BY BUDGET COMMITTEE**

**MALFOY STEPS DOWN FROM HOGWARTS BOARD OF GOVERNORS**

**DEMENTORS STATIONED AT ALL SITES OF BRITISH MAGICAL TRANSPORT**

**AZKABAN REFURBISHED**

**BEAUXBATONS EXCHANGE PROGRAM YIELDS POSITIVE RESULTS **

**FIREBOLT MODEL TO HIT SHELVES IN JULY**

"They're on about you're Godfather again, Harry. Do you really think he's innocent?"

Harry shrugged. "Dad told me that his side of the story needed to be told. I hope Dumbledore can find him before the Ministry does. I want to talk to him."

"Are you sure?" Ginny asked, folding up the paper and tossing it on the pile with the others. "His picture looks terrifying."

Harry scoffed and dumped the vegetables into the stew she was making. "Looks like a cuddly kitten compared to _your_ body's future self. Come on. Let's go walk Snuffles as this cooks. It's nice out tonight. I'll show you my playground."

Ginny frowned. "The playground where your cousin and his friends attacked you?"

Harry nodded. "It's still a nice little spot despite that."

It wasn't.

In fact, it was miserable.

Ginny was reminded for a split second of a little unhappy boy as he moped about his playground. Harry, however, unlike the little boy, wasn't unhappy. She was humming pleasantly to herself as she swung back and forth on the rickety swing-set.

Ginny grabbed her hand and pulled her back down the road away from the depressing scene. Sitting down under a tall, curved, elm tree, she pulled Harry into her lap and hugged her tightly. "You're amazing, Harry."

Harry snorted. "I'm really not."

"But you are. To be able to find happiness in this horrible town… It's amazing."

"Why do you have to do that? Why can't you be cruel like him?" Harry leaned back into her chest. "Gin… Sleep in my bed tonight. Please?"

Ginny sighed and placed her forehead down upon Harry's neck. "I can't. Please, don't ask me again, Harry."

Harry crawled out of her lap and leaned against Snuffles. "But… but if you resisted the urge to do more than sleep… he might cast you out of his body!"

Wincing at Harry's desperate look and feeling entirely helpless, Ginny shook her head and stood. "I don't think so. Look, I'm going back. I need to be on my own for a bit. I'll finish fixing dinner."

Ginny quickly walked away from her friend; so quickly, in fact, that she nearly bowled over a blonde boy as she turned the corner at the end of the block. She noticed that he looked rather like a pinched blue-eyed version of Draco Malfoy.

"Watch where you're going, mate," the boy said belligerently.

Ginny held up her hands in apology, not wanting to start a brawl with some random Muggle. "Sorry about that. I didn't see you."

The boy rudely flipped her off and went on his way.

_What a little prick._

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"How can I fix this?" Harry muttered, as she watched Ginny walk away. "It's not fair."

Snuffles whined commiseratively.

Harry scratched the friendly dog's head, leaning into its warm body. "Honestly Snuffles, I don't know what to do. I just want her back the way she used to be. I mean… something that goes against Tom's _'true nature.'_ How in the hell are we supposed to figure that out?"

As Harry scratched behind the dog's ears, the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand on end. She suddenly had the distinct impression that someone was watching her… from right… over…

There.

Intense rage flooded through Harry as she whipped out her wand and pointed it at the sliver of the familiar blonde boy that she could see around the corner of the house.

Piers walked out from around the corner and drawled, "Sorry! Didn't mean to disturb you. Just thought I recognized your voice."

Harry tightened her grip on the wand, barely resisting the urge to put him under the Cruciatus curse. However, if the boy took another step towards her... Well, if he wanted pain, so be it. "Bugger off, Piers! You're the second to last person on this earth that I want to see. The very last person isn't even human."

The boy held up his hands and stepped backwards, frowning. "Erm… Sorry? Do I know you?"

Harry scoffed incredulously and said through gritted teeth, "Don't you _dare_ act like you don't remember the seven years you and Dudley made me your punching bag. Last summer you… you…"

She trailed off as the contents of the letter she had received last year bounced around her mind.

_A magic reversal squad will arrive shortly to remove the memories of two Muggle witnesses, not including your cousin as his direct relation to you and previous knowledge of magic, exempts him from the process._

"'Last summer I…' what?" asked Piers slowly.

Harry laughed and slapped her hand to her forehead in derision. "You really _don't_ remember! I'd forgotten that they obliviated you. They must have taken it _all_ away! Well, that's good. I don't _want_ a ruddy bleeding ponce like _you_ to remember me! Now… leave me alone!

Piers expression contorted into the very same expression Harry had seen as the boy had stomped down on her face and stomach. It was both fury and intense hurt. "Now wait just one minute. I've never met you before in my life!"

Snuffles growled, jumped up, and lunged at Piers the moment he took a step forward.

Harry watched in amazement as the dog's body transformed in mid-leap. In a split-second the giant dog had become…

A man.

A very familiar man that was wearing a long black cloak.

A man whose face she had stared at for hours while examining the many photographs she now had of her parents.

Sirius Black grabbed Piers by the collar, pushed him roughly against the wall, growled something that Harry didn't catch, and then shoved the blonde boy out into the street.

Piers ran full tilt in the opposite direction.

Harry's mouth opened and closed listlessly as her Godfather turned toward her with a smile upon his face. While his teeth were grimy and yellowing, it was a kind and sincere smile; the very same smile that had graced his face when he was the best man at her parents' wedding.

"Hey there, Prongslet," he said gently, in a gruff hoarse voice. "I've missed you. You really do look just like Lils."

"This is… This is…" Harry backed into the tree, her wand trembling. "Did… Did you kill them?"

Black's smiling face settled into a miserable frown at the direct question. "I don't deny it, Harry. I as good as killed them… but not directly."

Harry's eyes widened. She had been holding on to the hope that he was innocent and to hear him admit it… "Explain!" she shouted angrily; tearfully; a curse to rip out his heart ready on the tip of her tongue. "Tell me why you escaped! Tell me what happened to my parents! How are you Snuffles? Tell me _everything_ and don't you _dare_ lie or I'll kill you where you stand! I'm a pretty decent Legilimens so I'll know if something doesn't add up. And you'd best run now if you're guilty, because I can and I _will_ kill the man that killed my parents!"

Black nodded, his shag of hair falling into his eyes. "You deserve all that and more, Harriet. Please, may I sit? I shall give you my wand for safekeeping."

Harry nodded. "Drop it at your feet."

She side-shuffled past Black to pick up the dropped wand as the man himself sat against the tree trunk.

"Where do you want me to begin?" he asked quietly.

Harry sat down across from him, keeping her wand pointed at his chest. "The beginning."

Black closed his blue-grey eyes. "I suppose… I suppose it started with a fight. Your mother and your father were not always the best of friends, Harry. In fact, they couldn't tolerate each other at all for the first four years at school. During the very first train ride, James, myself, Lily, and your mother's snotty little friend got into a bit of a row. Lily and Snivellus told us to get out of their compartment or there would be consequences. So… we did; we found another compartment and an entirely new fight. James and I were quite good at picking fights you see."

He grinned at Harry, who couldn't help but smile back as she learned that she had something else in common with her father.

Black continued. "Two more boys in our year were being bullied by an older boy. Well, James and I stepped in and told the older boy to shove off or he'd have to deal with four of us instead of two. The little bastard ran for the hills and James and I found two new loyal friends in Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew."

"My Dad told me not to underestimate Peter," whispered Harry, interrupting Black's tale.

The man frowned. "He told you not to… But how?"

Harry shook her head. "It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell you someday, if I don't kill you. Go on."

"Well, James is right," Black said slowly. "_Peter,_ the little rat, is far more slippery and cunning than any of us ever realized. The reason I hold myself responsible for your parents' deaths, Harry, is because I know in my heart that should _I_ have held the burden that was mine in the first place, your parents would still be alive."

"What do you mean?" she asked weakly, her wand arm falling to her side.

Black bowed his head and Harry could have sworn she saw a sparkling tear slip out of the corner of his eye.

"I mean that I should have died in their place!" the shabby wizard cried brokenly. "When Lily and James went into hiding, a charm was placed over them. The Fidelius charm, when applied to a location, makes that location untraceable, unspeakable, and impossible to find, even if the seeker were to be standing right in front of it. The magic, however, requires a living soul to fuel it. A Secret-Keeper keeps the location within his soul. It cannot be spoken or written by any other soul apart from the Secret-Keeper. It cannot be taken from the Secret-Keeper's mind. The information must be _willingly_ given. I was logically the first choice for James' and Lily's keeper, but I, in my _infinite_ wisdom, suggested that I was far too _obvious_ a choice. In my stead, I suggested they choose Peter. He was the very weakest of us in terms of power, yet was secretly one of our strongest fighters. The Dark Lord would never choose to hunt someone like Peter over Remus or myself. So Peter happily went into hiding to wait out the war. However, by chance, Snivellus, once Lily's friend, found Peter and gave his location to Voldemort."

Harry knew what came next. Pulling her knees to her chest, she mumbled morosely, "Peter told him where they were, didn't he?"

Sirius nodded. "After the attack on your house, I chased him down. Before he went and blew up the street, cutting off his finger to blame me and fake his death, Peter told me himself exactly why he gave in. To this day, his words haunt my dreams. He thought of us, his truest friends, as merely his 'protectors and benefactors.' He thought that we weren't _worth_ sacrificing his own life. He even told me that he knew he was in the wrong… and yet still he did it to save his own skin."

"I don't want to know why he gave in," spat Harry angrily. "I just want to kill him!"

"Should you find him before I do, Prongslet, the honor shall be yours."

Harry cocked her head curiously. "Why do keep calling me that? 'Prongslet,' I mean?"

Sirius grinned. "That, Harry, is a legendary story that cannot be told in one night and has much to do with my dog form. Let us say simply that I, Padfoot, referred to your mother and father as Prongs and Prongslette. You, their daughter, I shall call Prongslet. Don't deny your dear Godfather his quirks, Harry. Apart from his dashing good looks, they're all he has left."

Harry giggled softly into her knees. "I… I don't mind."

She looked up and stared deeply into the man's sunken, yet kind eyes. "So… So I guess Dumbledore knows that you're innocent, yeah? But… but why did he put you with me as a guard dog? Shouldn't you be in hiding? I mean… the Ministry is after you!"

Sirius tilted his head and smiled, droplets of moisture glistening at the corners of his eyes. "You know, you even sound like her, Harry; cool reason tempered with passionate fire. You're right, of course. I should be hiding, but I, unlike you, am not a very reasonable person. I demanded that Albus place me here, not because you needed a guard, but as payment for my suffering. You see, I love you like you're my own, Prongslet. The dementors of Azkaban Prison could not twist or steal my warm feelings for you and I have missed you so very _very_ much these twelve long years."

Harry's heart flipped wonderfully when she touched his mind with her own and felt only truth in his surface thoughts. Here was someone that had loved her since the moment she was born; had _always_ wanted her, but was denied the chance to show her that love. It felt oddly like what was happening with her and Ginny; they had been kept apart for so long and she could either embrace him… or hold him at arm's length.

Without hesitation, Harry made her choice. This was a good man; a kind man; a man that, like her, deserved none of the misfortune that was wrought upon him. Tentatively, she crawled forward to sit next to him against the trunk. Ignoring all her inhibitions, she took his hand and leaned into his shoulder.

"You used to do that when you were a baby," Sirius whispered, gesturing at the way she was playing absentmindedly with his pinky finger. "And then you'd shove it into your mouth. I bought you a little stuffed broom at St. Mungo's as a replacement, seeing as my fingers could only take so much slobber."

Harry gasped and hastily dug into the expanded pocket of her jeans. "Do you mean this?" she asked, pulling out her plushie.

Sirius let out a bark of laughter as he took the little stuffed toy. "That's the very one! Why do you carry it around, I wonder?"

Harry grabbed it back indignantly and cuddled it to her chest. "Oi! Shut it! I found it at Godric's Hollow and I… I carry everything that I took from the house with me!"

Sirius put an arm around her shoulders. "Just teasing you, lass. I do the very same thing. Look here."

She watched him take from his robe pocket several pictures and letters along with four, small, colored figurines. One was a wolf, one was a rat, one was a stag, and one was a dog. He handed her the stag. "I visited my home on the first night of my escape and picked up my most important memories before the house was raided. That's James there. You can have him if you want."

Harry shook her head fervently. "No… I couldn't do that. These are yours_._ Is… Is Peter the rat?"

Sirius nodded solemnly, holding the little statue of the rodent up to the window's light. "I can't bring myself to throw it away. As I much as I hate him… I still love him. I don't know if you can understand that, Harry."

"I do," replied Harry simply. "I really do."

Sirius' arm around her shoulders tightened. "That's right! Here I am gasbagging about the past, but I know next to nothing about you. I've pieced together a lot of it from your conversations with Ginny, but I feel like I'm missing the big picture. Tell me about _you._ Tell me about Hogwarts! Have you found the passage into Honeydukes? Or to the Shrieking shack? Judging by the snitch covered trainers you've got there, I gather you like Quidditch. Any good pranks to share? I know plenty."

She shook her head. "Not here. Let's go back to the house. I think Ginny would like to meet you. She's my best friend… although… I suppose you know that."

Sirius laughed. "Aye. I admit, at the train-station I thought that the boy standing in front of me was your boyfriend! By the way, no dating until you're twenty-five; I promised James."

Harry giggled softly. "Erm… right."

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Hermione's eyes widened with shock as she recognized the girl with whom she had just bumped market trolleys. The girl's long blonde hair and superior smirk were unmistakable. It was Sally Pews; the queen-bee of Grove Park Primary; the bane of her pre-Hogwarts life.

The girl seemed just as surprised to see Hermione. "Beaver Cheeks? Is that you? I thought you died!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "That's _not_ my name, Sally."

Sally smiled overly-sweetly. "Of course it isn't. So what school are you attending now? Chiswick Community? No, wait, let me guess. You've been enrolled in a _world-class_ Orthodontics Institution haven't you?"

Hermione clenched her fists and was about to retort angrily, when a calming hand fell upon her shoulder.

"Mione, who's your… _friend?_"

Hermione looked up into his handsome freckled face. "This is Sally Pews, Ron. The one I told you about."

Ron winked at her. "Oh? Isn't she the one that all your old classmates used to secretly make-fun of because she constantly smelled like rotten toe-jam?"

Hermione almost choked, but managed to disguise it as a cough. "You're so tactless, Ronald! Sally's right here! I'm _so_ sorry, Sally. Do forgive my boyfriend. He's not very sensitive to people with hygiene problems. Have a nice summer holiday."

Hermione quickly pulled Ron out of the aisle to the other end of the market where her mother was picking out plums. She whirled on Ron and whacked him in the arm. "I can't _believe_ you did that! That girl is going to have self-esteem issues for the rest of her life because of what you just said!"

Ron scoffed incredulously. "I wasn't just going to let her stand there and poke fun at you, Mione. Don't finger all the blame on me either. _You_ were the one that hammered the nail on the coffin with the 'hygiene' and the 'boyfriend' bits!"

Hermione felt an intense blush heating her cheeks. "That isn't the _point_, Ron!"

Ron folded his arms. "Enlighten me."

Her mouth opened and closed as she searched for 'the point.'

"Exactly," said Ron, pulling her into a one-armed hug. "Look, you're my friend. She was picking on you. I shut her up. Simple as that, yeah? Now, show me these price scammers your dad was talking about."

Hermione sighed, trying not to show how much she liked having his arm around her. "_Scanners_, Ron. And don't change the subject. I'm… I'm upset with you! I didn't invite you over for dinner to fix all my problems in one night."

"Why _did _you invite me over?" he asked curiously, giving her shoulders a shake.

"Oh… erm… I just… I just thought it would be nice to see each other before I leave for Paris," muttered Hermione, blushing even further. "I'll have trouble writing while I'm there, you see."

"Right," agreed Ron. It might have just been Hermione's imagination, but to her ears, he sounded slightly disappointed. "Well, when you get back, would you… would you like to come to the Burrow?"

Far too quickly than she would have liked, an excited shout of "yes please," jumped out of her mouth.

Ron laughed nervously and scratched his head in that infuriatingly lovable way that made Hermione's heart leap.

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The shock of seeing the black-haired girl walking through the crowd in a long, beautiful, red dress caused Pansy to _drop_ the thousand galleon vase she was carrying.

The sound of its shatter was deafening and the entire crowded hall of guests attending Mr. Malfoy's thirty-fifth birthday celebration fell silent.

Pansy pointed her trembling finger and shouted in outrage, "What is _SHE_ doing here?"

A hand grasped her by the wrist and quickly dragged her out of the hall, through the servant's quarters, and into a nearby bedroom.

Pansy rounded on Draco as soon as the door was closed behind them and slapped her boyfriend as hard she could across the face. "YOU _INVITED_ HER? HOW COULD YOU INVITE _HER_ INTO _MY_ MANOR?"

Pansy drew back her hand to slap him again, but Draco caught her wrist and pushed her roughly up against the marble wall.

"_ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?" _he hissed angrily, shaking her shoulders. "I _didn't_ invite her! She invited herself!"

Pansy flailed against his painfully tight grip and Draco let her go abruptly, scoffing in disgust. He walked away across the room, running his hands through his blonde hair in frustration.

Pansy sank to the ground, tears forming in the corners of her eyes from both the pain and his cruelty.

After a moment, Draco's hands found her arms once more, but his grip wasn't painfully tight. It was gentle; loving. "I'm sorry, Pans. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just… Father is going to be most displeased that it was _my_ fiancée that caused the scene. I was angry."

"Fuck your father, Draco," Pansy spat angrily. "I come first!"

"I know." His lips found her neck. "I'm sorry."

Pansy tilted her head to allow him better access to her skin and asked breathily, "Why is she here?"

Draco drew away slowly. His eyes searched her face before he kissed her hungrily; passionately. "I don't really know," he said against her lips. "She wants a favor from my father and she's holding the diary debacle over his head. That's why I _assume_ she's here; as a threat. Either he does what she wants, or she goes public."

"Wasn't the freed-elf enough?" she asked, threading her fingers through his hair.

"Apparently not," Draco grunted, sliding his hand into the thigh-high slit of her tight, body-hugging, oriental-style dress. "_Merlin._ You look so bloody sexy tonight."

Pansy nodded towards the bed. "Lock the door. We're in a bedroom. Let's make use of it."

"Now you're thinking sensibly."

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Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry's shoulders. "What do you want for your birthday, Piglet?"

Harry giggled from her spot on the couch and stuffed the rest of the fourth muffin she was eating into her mouth. "Oh, I don't care. I'm happy with a surprise."

"Good, because I already got you something."

Harry turned around and bounced excitedly up and down on the cushions. "What is it? What is it? Tell me!"

"Never," said Ginny, rolling over the edge of the couch. "Where's Sirius today?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. He said he had something to do."

"Are you joking?" asked Ginny exasperatedly. "He's going to get himself caught!"

Harry pushed aside her essay on 'why witch burnings were absolutely pointless,' stood up, and stretched, walking into the kitchen to start lunch. "This _is_ Sirius were talking about. There's no use in trying to stop him."

Ginny's eyes fell to Harry's swaying bum as her friend walked away from her.

_Stop it! Stop it, you evil bastard!_

"GINNY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS!"

Ginny leapt up and rushed into the kitchen.

Harry was holding out the Daily Prophet.

**MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE**

_Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw._

_A somber Mr. Weasley told the Daily Prophet, "While we had been planning a long overdue holiday, due to our youngest child's failing health, we shall put the gold away for a more prudent occasion."_

_The Daily Prophet sympathizes with the Weasley family and congratulates them on their small stroke of luck in this troubled time._

"Wow! That's a few years worth of school supplies," said Ginny, watching the moving picture of her father shake hands with both the Minister of Magic and the Editor in Chief of the Daily Prophet. "That's really lucky, isn't it? Dad always used to say it was rigged, because it only ever went to the Minister's close friends."

Harry frowned. "Really?"

Ginny nodded. "Well, anyway, what do you want to-"

"GIRL! GET DOWN HERE! BRING THAT… BRING THAT BOY TOO!"

Harry sighed and pulled Ginny from the room.

Ginny's eyes bulged at the sight of Harry's family dressed to the nines.

Harry's uncle held up a fat finger at them. "Listen here, you nasty little freaks. While we vacation to Marge's, you will not disturb this house in any way. We have tolerated the magicking of our home; we have tolerated being threatened by a barmy old codger; we have shown hospitality to a _total _stranger _AND_ a _dog_! I've had just about enough! Any more of your freaky surprises, girl, and I'll have you tossed into child services! Do you _understand?_"

Ginny swelled with indignant anger, but before she could make her angry retort, Harry obediently mumbled, "Yes, Uncle Vernon."

After the Dursleys had trundled out of the house, Ginny turned to Harry. "Why do you let them talk to you like that?"

"Didn't you see Uncle Vernon's fingers," said Harry with a laugh that was quite clearly faked. "Try getting slapped with those monstrous sausages!"

"That's _not_ funny, Harry!" shouted Ginny angrily. "Tell me the truth!"

Harry scoffed and shoved past her, but Ginny caught her arm and dragged her back.

"Tell me."

Harry reddened and shouted in her face. "I don't know if you noticed, Ginny, but they are the _only_ relatives I have! They're my fam-"

"No, they're not!" screamed Ginny. "I am!"

Harry's mouth fell slack.

Ginny shook her friend by the shoulders. "They _killed_ you, Harry! THEY _KILLED_ YOU! They're not your family! _We're_ your family: Ron, Hermione, and me! Not them! They don't love you!"

Harry looked away, biting her lip. "You don't… You don't know that. They might… deep down. Just leave me alone, Gin. You don't understand."

Harry turned and walked out of the house, leaving Ginny alone.

"Fine," she muttered angrily, stomping back up the stairs. _"Be that way."_

Far too upset to focus on her Potion's essay, Ginny spent the next hour banging around the kitchen, 'tidying' things up as she attempted to calm herself. However, when her thumb slipped on a knife that she had been washing rather roughly, the pain of the resulting shallow cut took her anger over the edge. She grabbed their blender and threw it against the wall as hard as she could. It shattered into at least twenty pieces. However, to Ginny's fury, the charms on the kitchen repaired the blender immediately and levitated it back to the counter.

She was in the middle of smashing the muggle appliance for the dozenth time, when there came a soft hiss from behind her.

"_Why do you clatter and fussss, Ginny sspeaker? Where iss Harry sspeaker? May I have a banana?"_

"She's so damn stubborn, Alice!" hissed Ginny furiously, slamming the blender down on the shelf. She ripped a banana from the bunch, peeled it back, and placed it on the table for the snake. "It drives me mad that she puts up with the Dursleys when all I want to do is rip them apart with my bare hands! They _murdered_ her! They _murdered_ my Harry!"

Alice slowly, almost lovingly, curled around the yellow fruit.

"_Have you told her what it iss that upssetss you, Chica?"_

"Well, not exactly, but still! She shouldn't… she… shouldn't…"

Ginny lost her train of thought as she noticed an enormous black falcon soaring towards the kitchen window. It was carrying a long flat package in its talons and a small thin package by its beak.

As soon as it landed, the falcon squawked miserably and burst into flame. Dead and smoldering, it fell to the floor at Ginny's feet.

Before a scream could leave her lips, a large note fluttered off the biggest parcel, unfolded in midair, and began to speak in a booming voice.

"**To Ginevra Weasley: BRING THE BODY OF TOM RIDDLE TO THE ADDRESS BELOW OR HARRIET POTTER WILL DIE IN YOUR PLACE! YOU HAVE ONE HOUR!"**

The letter dropped limply onto the table and silence reigned over the small kitchen.

Her heart pounding in fear, Ginny tore open the largest package to find… a mirror.

But not just _any_ mirror. In its shiny reflective surface, she saw not herself, but Harry. Her friend was completely naked, hanging from chains on a slimy dungeon wall. Her face was bruised; beaten. Her breasts and stomach were slashed. Her hands… her hands were spilling blood down her chained arms in torrents.

Ginny scrambled to open the smaller package.

She promptly threw up her breakfast upon seeing its contents.

Inside the brown wrapping, sat a small, pale, _severed_ finger.

_Harry._

The ground beneath her feat shook violently and the window beside her shattered.

_Someone took my Harry…_

Several loud noises and explosions echoed up through the floor.

_Someone took my Harry away from me! Tortured her... because of me!_

The kitchen table snapped in two and Ginny made a very simple choice.

She would go to the address… and, with the vast power of Lord Voldemort at her fingertips, she would _kill_ everyone.

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The black cloth was pulled away from her eyes.

Sitting across the table at which she had been placed was a hooded figure with a black cloak and a white skull-shaped mask.

Its garbled voice disguised by magic, the cloaked figure withdrew a wicked-looking knife and asked slowly, "Are you sure this is what needs to be done?"

She nodded and held out her hand. "Do it… and don't hold back."

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Ginny stepped off the Night Bus, her wand sparking in anticipation. Spells from Tom's mind erupted into her memory. They were spells to hurt; spells to maim; spells to make men beg for death.

She calmly walked toward the intricate iron-wrought gate. The grounds beyond were deserted apart from several large peacocks that were strutting around the hedges.

Raising her wand, she shouted, _"Expulso!"_

The metal exploded inward with the force of a cannon, chopping the peacocks to bloody bits. A large piece of the gate was flung at such a velocity that it _cut_ clean through one of the stone pillars that was supporting the archway above the mansion's entrance.

Ginny repeated the spell on the main doors, feeling confident as the power she had not dared to touch previously burned through her veins with a singing fire.

However, as soon as she stepped over the threshold of the entrance hall, the floor gave way beneath her. Screaming her head off in Tom's very feminine shriek, she fell through what seemed like a mile-long chute. Eventually, the tunnel curved and she skidded to a painful halt in an enormous circular chamber.

Groaning, she raised her head.

There, on the floor, was Harry.

And she…

She wasn't moving.

She wasn't blinking.

She wasn't breathing.

_No… that's not… NO!_

Ginny scrambled forward and lightly touched the girl's lips.

They were cold and cracked… just like before.

She shook Harry's shoulders.

_She's asleep._

_She's just sleeping!_

But Harry did not wake upon Ginny's rousing.

"No! Please, Harry!" Overwhelming grief hit her like a speeding train as she shook the limp body frantically. "Don't leave me again…you promised… _Harry_…"

A tear slid down her cheek...

There was a distinct _ripping_ sensation within her head... and the world around her ceased to exist.

Ginny's eyes popped open.

It took her several moments to realize why it was that she felt so small; why it was that she no longer felt a dangling appendage between her legs; why it was that the fire of Tom's power was decidedly absent.

She was back; back in her own body; back in her own bedroom at The Burrow.

Her best friend's face was hovering above her, but it wasn't lifeless or beaten. It was smiling and surprisingly whole. Harry Potter was… _alive!_

"Hey, Gin," the girl whispered, lightly caressing Ginny's cheek. "Welcome back."

In the dark of her bedroom, Ginny reached out to touch Harry's lips. They were soft, warm, and _real_. "How?" she asked hoarsely, sitting up and throwing her arms around Harry. "I don't… I don't-"

Harry placed her finger over Ginny's mouth. "Shhhh, I know. A few days ago, everything just clicked. I finally figured out two acts that would surely go against Voldemort's nature. You yourself told me he was a cruel heartless bastard that had dreams about his own death. So I realized, Tom Riddle, who fears only his own death, would never willingly give up his life. That was option one, but I wasn't about to ask you to die for me, so that was out. I had to move on to option two."

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Option... option two?"

Harry nodded. "I needed someone to help me trick you into thinking... Well, I went to Lucius Malfoy and I made a deal in return for a favor. Tom is cruel, heartless, and cares only for himself, Ginny. He would never truly grieve over another's death. And… And I know you don't just cry for anyone… but… I thought-"

**SLAP**

"YOU THOUGHT IF YOU FAKED YOUR DEATH I'D CRY? WELL CONGRATULATIONS, _POTTER_, YOU THOUGHT RIGHT!"

Ginny threw back the covers and stomped out of her bedroom, absolutely fuming.

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When her cheek stopped burning, Harry went looking for Ginny. She had to find her and make things right.

After three hours of searching the Burrow, however, Harry gave up; her body wasn't fully healed and she needed to rest. Even though the 'dead Harry' that Sirius had created for the end of the charade had actually been a nicely transfigured sausage, the torture scene that she had insisted was necessary had been entirely real. She didn't know who it was that Lucius had assigned to torture her in his dungeons, but they must not have liked her very much because they had been _extremely_ thorough in making sure that Harry experienced a wide variety of pain and mutilation. Even though her finger was agonizingly painful as it grew back with the assistance of Skelegrow and Dermagrow potion, Harry could safely say that the whip to the chest and stomach had been the worst part of the whole thing. You never knew where the burning sting of the lash would land… so you couldn't expect it.

Harry crawled into Ginny's bed, completely exhausted.

She was at the very best part of her memory in the train station, when she felt warm hands slide around her stomach. Turning over to look into amber gold-flecked eyes, she whispered, "Where were you hiding? I looked everywhere."

"Roof," muttered Ginny tiredly. "I know you did. I was watching."

"That's not fair," moaned Harry, leaning in to rub their noses together. "I don't know how to get up there. You made me look for ages!"

"Tough," said Ginny. "You deserved it."

Harry sighed and closed her eyes, breathing in strawberries. "You can be mad at me for as long as you want, Ginny. I did what I had to do to bring you back. I'll do it again if I have to."

Ginny glared at her. "No you _won't_! Say that you wont!"

Harry nodded and wrapped her leg around Ginny's thigh. "I will."

"You're a stupid bint then!"

"Okay," agreed Harry ambivalently. "Can we go to sleep now? I need to rest. Those Death Eater types really know how to make a girl hurt."

"So do you!" cried Ginny spitefully, her voice laced with heartbreak. "You hurt me more tonight than ten-thousand Cruciatus curses, Harry!"

Harry rolled on top of her, straddling her waist. "Look… I'm sorry, Gin. I'm sorry you're hurt and I hope you'll forgive me one day, but I just… I couldn't stand being miserable anymore! I couldn't stand seeing _you_ miserable! I'd had enough of it… and I decided to change it. We deserve to be _happy_."

"I _was_ happy."

Harry laughed quietly. "No you weren't! You moped about all day for an entire month."

Ginny frowned and pulled her back down. "I don't know why, but somehow, we both got second chances, Harry. It didn't matter that I was in a different body. I had you. I was trying to make the best of it; trying to be happy."

"I know," said Harry softly. "But now we really can be."

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"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" asked Harry quietly.

As Gwenog led them through the blue and white stands to the locker room, Ginny smiled and whispered from the corner of her mouth, "If you're thinking a steady stream of curse words… then yes."

"I'm thinking this is bloody great!" said Harry.

Feeling uneasy, Ginny dropped her bag in the middle of the locker room and stared around at the large gaggle of talkative girls. "Ohhh.. I shouldn't be here, Harry. I'm far too inexperienced. I've never even played in a real game!"

Alicia and Katie, who had apparently overheard, slid their arms around Ginny's shoulders.

"Don't worry about it, Ginny," said Alicia reassuringly. "You've certainly got enough skill. And hey, at least you won't get harassed for being the youngest. You look like you're older than Harry!"

Harry growled and chucked a pair of her knickers straight at Alicia's head. The girl ducked swiftly and the green panties soared across the room, as if in slow motion, right into the lap of a blonde Nordic-looking girl who, judging by her small build, might also have been a seeker. The girl looked up and flashed a brilliantly white smile at Harry, who squeaked in embarrassment and turned away.

Alicia and Katie squawked with laughter and ran off, leaving Harry and Ginny alone with the blonde. The girl stood up, walked over to them, stepped right up to Harry, and tapped her on the shoulder. "Afsakið, yours these are, já?"

Her face a brilliant shade of tomato-red, Harry turned around and slowly nodded as she took the knickers.

Ginny frowned as the blonde of perhaps fifteen or sixteen years smiled again, stepped closer to the black-haired girl, and said with a soft gag-inducing giggle, "Next time, no need throw spare."

Harry spluttered at their sudden proximity. "Erm... w-what?"

Lightly drawing a fingernail down Harry's stomach, the girl hooked her finger into the elastic of the green underwear Harry was wearing and gave it a slight tug. "Next time, I take from hips, já?"

Ginny's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets as the Nordic girl pushed Harry up against the lockers with her lower body, placed her hands on the bare skin of Harry's waist, and snogged her… _hard._

And Harry… Harry didn't seem to be putting much effort into resisting.

When the girl drew away, she wiped her lips with her finger, let out an insipid giggle that made Ginny grind her teeth, and bounced away without a word.

Harry slid down the length of the lockers and collapsed in a dazed half-naked heap upon the floor, panting and staring after the girl with an open mouth.

Ginny threw her hands into the air and gesticulated wildly. "WHAT IN THE BLOODY BLAZES WAS THAT?"

A young woman in blue and white, clearly a full-fledged Harpy, stuck her head around the corner of the lockers and said in a thick Welsh accent, "Tha's Marin, tha' is. Won the Reykjavik Five-Hundred broom race when she was only thirteen and ol' Gwenog had her signed the next day. She's faster than anything I've ever seen. She can fly a Firebolt at top-speed for an entire game and not hit a single bloody thing… but… she can't catch a snitch to save her life."

For some reason, Ginny felt an intense need to belittle this Marin girl's achievements. "Well, Harry just got a Firebolt and she can catch a snitch with her eyes closed! Can't you, Harry?"

Harry gurgled something that sounded neither positive nor negative.

"Anyway, she's… well…" The woman crudely made two Vs with her fingers, turned them sideways, and shoved them together repeatedly. "Get wha' I mean? A couple of the girls round 'ere play for the other team and Marin there... Well, you can think of her as the _captain_ of said team; she's a damn sight more aggressive than even the randiest of blokes, is completely open, and likes to prey on and... _convert_... the newer recruits. With _her_ looks... she does a right job of it as well. So I'd watch out, Potter. Looks like you've been selected as this year's fresh meat."

Harry moaned weakly from her spot on the floor.

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After the most grueling workout of her entire life, Harry could barely raise her wand to tap the door to the cabin that belonged to the five Gryffindor girls. Never again was she going to show up a professional Quidditch player, just in case they happened to be running her drills… like today. Stripping into her t-shirt and knickers, she stumbled across the threshold of the room and stepped over Angelina who was passed out on the floor. Forgoing her own bunk, Harry climbed up the ladder and collapsed into Ginny's bed.

"Nnngt mmmarin," moaned the redhead sleepily as Harry shifted the blanket and slipped beneath the covers. After three weeks of sleeping together again and getting the best rest she had received in half a year, she wasn't about to stop simply because they were at camp. Alicia and Katie were doing the same thing across the room… although… Harry supposed that was for an entirely different reason.

The annoying voice in her head that she thought she had silenced ages ago shouted with glee, _'But… it felt right when you kissed didn't it?'_

_That was Tom! _

'_So it felt right kissing Tom?'_

_Of course not!_

'_So... it felt right kissing Ginny?'_

_NO! IT WAS COMPLICATED! JUST... JUST SHUT IT!_

The voice was quieted.

Harry snuggled backwards into Ginny's body and the girl groaned, still half-asleep, "Nnnnn, Hrry, yerlegs… freezing."

"Sorry, Gin," Harry whispered.

"S'okay," mumbled Ginny, her hand slipping into Harry's shirt. "Jusdon… donkuss… muhrin."

Far too tired to decode the redhead's sleepy mumbling, Harry grabbed her broom plushie as well as the new snitch plushie that Ginny had given to her for her birthday and quickly fell asleep.

At breakfast the following morning, a shadow fell over her bowl of oatmeal.

"Afsakið? Hah-rie, já?"

Harry looked up at the blue-eyed blonde that looked vaguely like Luna Lovegood, but with straighter, more voluminous, golden hair. "Erm... yes. You're Marin, yeah?"

The girl nodded. "Já. I vould like talk of moves."

Ginny dropped her fork noisily.

"Oh," said Harry slowly, nervously smiling up at the girl who had snogged her the previous day. "Well, erm... sit down. I watched you fly yesterday. My Godfather got me a Firebolt for my birthday and I'm just getting the hang of top-speed. I don't know how you manage to stay at it for so long."

"It is practice." Marin grinned and sat down in the empty seat next to Harry. She slid along the bench until they were knee to knee. "If you like, I teach you. You teach Balentine Turn me, já?"

At the touch of their skin, Harry felt her cheeks heat up tremendously; she could still taste the girl's chocolaty lip-balm. "Erm... sure... if you want..."

"Sorry," said Ginny, standing up abruptly. "Harry's going to be _really_ busy today. Maybe some other time!"

Ginny grabbed Harry's hand and pulled her away from the table, dragging her all the way back to their cabin.

Once inside, Harry turned to her. "Thanks, Gin. I was getting really-"

"I don't want you talking to her, Harry!" Ginny interrupted bitterly.

"You_... what?_" asked Harry, laughing slightly.

"She's up to no good. I'm sure of it," whispered Ginny, shaking her head. "She's trying to... _she's trying to make you just like her, Harry!_ It's just wrong!"

Harry frowned, realizing that Ginny was absolutely serious. "Look, Gin, I know what that woman said, but... I really don't think someone can '_convert_' you."

Ginny turned away, folding her arms. "But... you liked it. You liked it when she snogged you; I could tell. I thought you liked Ron!"

"I _do_ like Ron!"

"But you like snogging Marin; a _girl_?"

Harry scoffed. "Gin, didn't we do this before? When Luna kissed me? Yes! I _liked_ it! I like snogging! Snogging is nice! Why are you so bloody angry? I know that its... I know that its wrong for girls to do it, alright?"

"You were staring after her!"

"SO WHAT?" Harry shouted defensively, not sure where this was going. "So what if I was? She had just snogged me!"

Ginny spun around and stamped her foot. "You were looking at her like you look at Ron!"

Harry's mouth fell open in outrage. "No I wasn't! I was... I was just... I don't know!"

"You were, Harry! You _were_! I know you don't think you were... but you were."

Exasperated, Harry sat down on the bed and covered her face with her hands.

_No. _

_I wasn't!_

_Was I?_

_No._

_I was just... admiring her bum._

_That's right! It was just bum envy._

_..._

Ginny sat down on the bed and leaned into Harry's shoulder. "From this point on, you're only allowed to look at Ron like that!"

Harry was jolted from her thoughts. "You can't just _decide_ that!"

Ginny pushed Harry back into the pillows and hugged her tight. "Yes I can, Harry. You're going to marry Ron and have lots of red-haired green-eyed babies. You're never going to leave my family, because you're ours; you're _mine_."

Harry closed her eyes. "I'll be yours no matter what, Gin."

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**PoA one is done, hun.**

**Take the time to review!**

**Lots of new art! The background of the art blog is new and represents a very specific place. Guess where?**

I like to think that as a young man Tom Riddle wasn't really sexual. He just liked the feeling of dominating others. That fits right? O_O

Yes, even though I used it for a different purpose, I absolutely stole the idea of the 'two-way' door with the color dial from Diana Wynne Jones, my _second_ favorite author.

Hermione lives in Chiswick, London and went to my Primary school because I like to imagine that she ran around in a little blue jumper. Deal with it! : )


	19. Chapter 17: Prophecy and Revelation

Several people were surprised by the lengths Harry would go to for Ginny. Ginny's pretty smart and I felt like just the sight of Harry's body, say… lying in the street… wouldn't have been enough. Harry needed to incite Ginny into a rage to make her irrational enough to believe that a sausage that someone clearly meant for her to see was actually her dead friend. There was no way Sirius could have made the replica perfect. Transfiguration can only do so much. As to Harry's reaction to the torture… Well, perhaps, in the future, I'll dedicate an _entire_ chapter to _exactly_ what Harry experiences in her Petrifying dream. Honestly, after both watching and _feeling_ the deaths of thousands… going through a little torture to save someone you love would be akin to purposefully stubbing your toe. It hurts, sure, but it doesn't_ HURT_.

Thanks for all the great feedback everybody, especially Osma, my ultra-perceptive proofreader/beta/squiggle-detector, who has given me some really wonderful ideas for details that make things just a little sweeter.

This is a pretty significant chapter.

Any Icelandic speakers please feel free to correct Marin's speech.

**Chapter 17: Prophecy and Revelation**

_Beyond the brightest light lies the deepest shade of darkness. When I live where darkness falls, shall no more assail mine eyes?_

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Ginny screamed in outrage as Harry, mere seconds before she would have caught the Snitch, was deliberately hobbed by the Puddlemere Seeker and no foul was called. The little golden ball was lost and the game continued into its last fifteen minutes.

If she had been a more reasonable person, she supposed she would have thought it fair, seeing as Angelina, whom Gwenog had aptly nicknamed 'a diamond in the _tough_,' had already hobbed several of the Puddlemere Chasers without penalty. But Ginny wasn't reasonable. Katie, Alicia, Marin, Amélie, and the rest of the second-stringers had to physically restrain her from hopping on her Nimbus to soar up and take revenge on Terrence Haverford for kicking Harry in the face. Had she been big enough to hold her own against Puddlemere's enormous Chasers and thus chosen for first-string, the skinny young man would have already been knocked off his broom.

It was no surprise that Ginny's raucous cries of anger went unheard by the ears of the referee. Even though the stands were only half-full for the hour-long exhibition match between the first-string of each team's recruits, the noise from the fans already present was tumultuous. This was also unsurprising. Given the rivalry between the teams, whenever Holyhead and Puddlemere fans gathered in the same stadium, there was sure to be some sort of riot.

The timed match ended without a snitch capture; one-hundred-seventy to one-hundred-fifty Puddlemere. Disappointed, but not deterred, Gwenog and the second-stringers trouped out of the team-box and back down to the locker rooms where the first-stringers were intermingling with the full-fledged Harpies that were readying for play. Immediately, Ginny rushed to Harry, who was having her broken nose fixed and her missing teeth replaced.

Harry smiled warmly and waved her off. "I'm fine, Gin. I saw you, you know. You shouldn't get so worked up when I get fouled. S'bound to happen now and again, especially against Puddlemere."

Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but, out of nowhere, Marin stepped between them. The blonde pressed her voluptuous body into Harry's, slipping her arms around the black-haired girl's waist.

"Nei! It is not true! _léleg_ Hahrie minn," crooned the sultry fifteen-year-old in broken English, which Ginny was convinced the Icelandic girl accentuated on purpose. "You are brave play with nose broken. I could have play for you, já?"

Harry, making no effort to push Marin away, blushed to the roots of her hair and shrugged bashfully.

Amélie, Marin's tall, French, would-be girlfriend huffed loudly, stomped over, glared at Harry, and pulled the blonde away possessively.

Harry sighed and stared after the pair as they walked away arguing in rapid French, which Marin seemed to be able to speak fluently. "You know, I'm glad we only have a few days left. Marin's getting a bit hard for me to handle."

Frowning at the way Harry's eyes were following the blonde's every move, Ginny grumbled angrily under her breath, "You call that _handling?_"

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Harry asked indignantly, rounding on her.

"Nothing," Ginny said with a light shrug and a false smile. "Don't mind me. I'm on the kit. Bad mood."

Harry joined Ginny in her anger. "No you're not! You were on the kit two weeks ago!"

"So?" muttered Ginny stubbornly.

Harry threw her hands into the air. "So that's impossible!"

Ginny scoffed. "Don't be such a know-it-all, Harry."

Her friend reddened. "I _am_ a know-it-all!"

Ginny bit back another angry retort. She didn't know why she was being so nasty to Harry; she simply… felt like it. Sighing in frustration, Ginny sat down on the bench, pulled off her jersey, and said grumpily, "Just hurry up and change, will you? I'm starving."

They didn't speak at all during dinner, nor did they speak during the nighttime practice. It wasn't until Harry climbed the ladder and crawled into bed that Ginny decided to break the ridiculous silence. "I'm sorry."

Harry shrugged uncaringly.

Frowning at the dismissal, Ginny whispered, "I really don't know why I got so angry."

The black-haired girl flopped down onto the pillow and turned away from Ginny. "I do."

Twirling the hair at the back of Harry's neck around her finger, Ginny asked nervously, "Are you… Are you going to tell me?"

"No," said Harry simply. "You won't take it well."

Ginny forcibly turned Harry back over. "Please?"

Harry's emerald eyes rapidly filled with tears. "I just… I didn't think I'd ever see... I thought… I thought _you_ were different!"

"D-Different? What do you-"

"OI!" shouted Angelina from the bunk across the room. "Will you two please put up a _bloody_ silencing charm! Some of us are buggered out!"

"You've got that right," giggled Alicia.

Katie moaned appreciatively.

"You as well!" Angelina said roughly. "Look, I'm perfectly alright with what goes on in your beds as long as I don't have to hear it when I'm trying to sleep! For Merlin's sake!"

"Sorry, Ange," whispered Harry through a soft sob. Grabbing her wand she threw a silencing charm across both bunks.

As soon as they were the only ones privy to their conversation, Ginny asked again, "What do you mean you thought I was different? Different how?"

Harry wiped at her eyes until they were red and puffy. "It's the way you _look_ at her, Gin; at Marin!"

Ginny's eyes bulged incredulously. "_What?_ The way I look-"

"You hate her!" interrupted Harry, flinging tears everywhere as she shook her head. "I've seen that look so many times! You think… You think she's some sort of freak just because she's different than _you_! What if… What if _I_ was like her? Would you hate me too? You're just like _them_!"

Ginny's heart broke as she realized that her best friend had just likened her to the Dursleys. "_No,_" she moaned pleadingly, her own tears flooding her eyes. "No, _Harry_, I'm _not_! Don't say that! _Please_, I'm sorry! I don't… I don't hate Marin!"

"Yes you do!" shouted Harry. "You hate her because she isn't _normal_ like you! When she came up to me, you looked at her like she was a piece of filth on your trainers!"

Ginny cupped Harry's cheek and leaned in, touching their noses together. "No, _Harry,_ it's not like that! I… I mean… _y-yeah alright_… I don't like her, but not because she fancies girls! Harry, please, _I promise,_ that's not it! I… I like Katie and Alicia just fine!"

The black-haired girl sniffled weakly, her eyes glistening. "T-Then w-why? She's really very nice."

Ginny sighed heavily. "I… I don't know."

"How can you possibly hate someone without knowing why you hate them?" asked Harry softly.

Ginny buried her eyes into the pillow. "I don't know, alright? I just don't like her! Everything she says and does makes me furious! Every time she comes near you I just… I want to punch her in her stupid, cute, little face!"

Harry's eyes widened in shock and Ginny saw within them a glint of something she'd never seen before.

"_Gin,_" whispered Harry, scooting closer to her. "Are you… Are you _jealous_ that I've been spending practice with Marin instead of you?"

Ginny reeled at the preposterousness of the idea; stammered at the utter outrageousness of the mere thought. "Of… Of course I'm not _jealous_!"

The little twinkle in Harry's eyes intensified and Ginny got the distinct impression that Harry wasn't actually looking at her.

Without realizing it, words spilled from Ginny's mouth. "I just don't like it when she talks to you. You're always doing drills together while I'm off with the Chasers. She's trying to… to take you away from me! No… I mean… that's not what I-"

Harry held up a finger to Ginny's lips. "What is with you Weasleys and jealousy, eh? I'm not going to leave you, I'm not going to forget you, and I'm certainly not going to replace you. I _love_ you, Gin." Harry took her by the hand and their charms clinked together. "Even if we were on opposite sides of the world for the rest of our lives, I'd still be right next to you; I'd still love you. You showed me how, remember?"

"_Harry,"_ moaned Ginny embarrassedly. "I'm not jealous! That's not why I-"

"Yes it is," Harry interrupted softly, tapping her head. "Legilimens, Gin."

Ginny's mouth dropped open in outrage. "Is that what that glint was? You used _Legilimency_ on me? Did you… Did you _make_ me admit that?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't _make_ you do anything. I simply suggested to your subconscious that it would be very kind of it to be completely honest with your conscious. It was _your_ choice. Between using mind-magic and continuing to think you were a bigot, I chose mind-magic."

Rolling over, Ginny grumbled stubbornly, "I'm _not_ jealous."

Sidling up behind her, Harry cuddled Ginny's shoulder. "I dunno… I sort of like that you're jealous. It makes me feel good. But like I tell Ron, you don't need to be, Gin."

"I'M NOT JEALOUS!" shouted Ginny, kicking the mattress angrily.

Harry giggled and trailed her finger down Ginny's thigh. "Whatever you say."

Growling, Ginny rolled back over, pounced on Harry, and went straight for her knees. The black-haired girl squealed with laughter and cried out, but Ginny had Harry right where she wanted her; completely at her mercy. "Surrender," she commanded playfully.

Harry squirmed beneath her, a wide grin plastered across her strangely flushed face. "N-N-Never!"

Ginny, of course, won the battle, which ended with her friend pinned beneath her. Harry was staring up at her and panting, her eyes heavy-lidded and fully augmented.

"H-Harry?" Ginny asked, rolling off of her. "Is something wrong?"

The emerald of Harry's eyes was sucked rapidly back into the irises and her friend turned away from her. "No... Nothing's wrong. I'm really happy, being here with you… I just…"

Ginny cuddled into Harry's back. "Just what?"

Harry drew her legs up to her chest and whispered in a pained voice, "I want more."

Ginny's chest tightened and the old fear that she wasn't good enough for Harry Potter knocked at the back door of her mind. "W-What do you mean?"

Harry shook her head frantically and grabbed Ginny's hand, pulling it around her waist. "I don't know."

Sighing softly in frustration, Ginny closed her eyes and whispered into the back of Harry's neck, "I'd give you anything you wanted."

"And… and I you, Gin," agreed Harry as a tangible shiver that Ginny could actually feel ran down her friend's spine. "Just forget I said anything, okay?"

Ginny rubbed her thumb across Harry's belly. "Alright… if you're sure. Will you... Will you fly with me tomorrow? Before practice starts?"

Pushing her bum back into Ginny's hips with a little grunt of satisfaction, Harry nodded and dragged Ginny's hand into its customary position within her shirt. "Y-Yeah… I'd like that."

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Albus grimaced in disgust at the gruesome ritual depicted upon the seventh page of Secrets of the Darkest Art. Upon a stone altar lay the bloodied corpse of a woman in pregnancy. The anguish frozen upon her face in death was heartbreaking even to an impartial observer like himself. As the imagery suggested, her expression had been instilled while watching the body of her fetal-child _ripped_ from the confines of her belly to be crushed beneath the boot-heel of the triumphant, gaudily-robed sorcerer towering above her. The wizard himself was holding his staff to his chest with one hand and raising a golden hourglass into the air with his other.

Peering over his half-moon spectacles at the tall, vacant-eyed, soulless young man sitting across from him, Albus picked up the black diary to examine it more closely and asked, "How could you perform such magic at the tender age of sixteen, Tom? How did I not realize you were so far gone? Did you _mean_ to place a part of your soul within Harry? Or was it folly? And why on _earth_ did you turn your horcrux into a weapon instead of keeping it safe? Why did your future self so carelessly place your key to immortality into the hands of Lucius Malfoy? It is most… _unlike_… the Tom Riddle I knew."

Tom stared back at him dully, offering no explanation.

Not that Albus had actually expected one. Without a soul, Tom was a simply a walking, breathing husk that only spoke when his bodily needs had to be addressed. Even though the boy's memories still existed within the cerebral pathways, his brain function was far too low for Albus to access them with Legilimency. Every time he tried to push into Tom's mental corridor, the walls around him would collapse.

He needed Tom's memories desperately; needed to know why nothing seemed to make sense. He needed to know the moves his opponents would make; needed to think ten steps ahead of them. He needed to know… He needed to know why the crimson daisy sitting within its crystal vase was suddenly in full bloom.

Albus leaned back in his armchair and calmly leveled his steady gaze into the corner. "May I help you?"

A deep wheeze of laughter rang out from the empty space, echoing ominously around the office. "It took you long enough, Albus. I was beginning to lose faith in you."

Frowning, he slowly withdrew his wand from his sleeve and placed it upon the desk in front of him. "Do state your business with me, Gellert. I have no time for games."

Gellert chuckled softly. "I simply wish to assist you, mein liebster."

Albus shook his head. "Lies, Gellert. You were, are, and always will be a liar."

"That is true," the deep voice mused. "But not in _this_ particular case. For you see, I _too_ wish to know what is in this boy's mind. I have a rather intriguing answer for your… _riddling_… puzzle and I shall share it with you if you agree to let me view his memories as well when you finally break him.

"Why would you wish that, Gellert?" he asked. "I know for a fact that you have no interest in Tom or the creation of his horcrux. You think him beneath you for resorting to such self-mutilation; I saw the truth of it in your eyes during our time together at Nurmengard."

Gellert tutted him amusedly. "That is for me to know, Albus. This is my offer. Take it… or leave it."

It had been so long since anyone had dared 'tut' him. Albus sighed heavily and nodded his head. "Do enlighten me."

Before Gellert began to speak, Albus felt their power intertwine, sealing the contract.

Gellert breathed out deeply. "It is done; Ausgezeichnet! Very well, I shall explain. While never having felt the need to use such disgraceful magic for my own purposes, I am _most_ familiar with the horcrux's creation. You must realize that the ritual itself _cannot_ be performed without an iron-clad mind-set to perform it. I have learned in my travels that soul magic is most demanding upon will. You must _want_ to split your soul. The conditions of the ritual _must_ be met before a soul fragment can be bound to this plane of existence. Yet consider young Harriet Potter. She _too_ is a horcrux. What do _you_ think that means, Albus?"

The answer came to him immediately… and the world suddenly made sense once more. "He was attempting to create _another_ horcrux with the deaths of the Potters."

"Exactly," said Gellert. "Given the wild carelessness that he gave his diary-"

"We must assume there are more," Albus whispered, stroking his beard.

"_Many_ more," agreed Gellert shortly. "He has been split three times at bare minimum, which would have been as good as destroying his soul entirely. It is most ironic that a man who fears death has, in actuality, already killed himself."

Albus observed the vacant-eyed boy with sadness. "I assure you, my love, that that is not how Tom sees it. I wonder, do you think this diary was not his first?"

Gellert's deep voice offered no reply and before his very eyes the crimson flower upon his desk slowly drew its petals inward.

Wishing he had more answers, Albus sighed and pinched the brow of his nose in frustration.

There was only one option that he could take.

Fawkes flew to his shoulder, trilling his grave concern.

He smiled up at the bird. "There is no alternative, my friend. I must speak with Nicolas. It is time to summon the Circles."

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Sirius saw them waving from afar. He grinned beneath his old-man-glamours as Harry ran towards him across the Celtic Gateway Bridge. The girl had been utterly brilliant in the exhibition match the previous day and he couldn't have been more impressed.

Harry jumped into his open arms for an enormous twirling hug.

"Great Scott, Prongslet!" cried Sirius happily, swinging her around. "If your father could see you playing for the Harpies, he'd roll over in his grave. James was for Puddlemere through and through. 'Puddlemere this' and 'Puddlemere that.' I once enchanted his tongue for a whole week so that every time he tried to say 'Puddlemere,' he would really say 'Diddle me.' It made for some very awkward, yet very amusing conversations. Hello there, Ginny. My God! Has your hair gotten _redder?"_

The freckled girl smiled and swatted at his hand as he flipped the ends of her hair. "Shut it, you ginger-hater!"

Sirius truly enjoyed the little redhead's company and he could clearly see why the two girls had gravitated toward one another. Even though his friends had seen their fair share of spats, nowhere could one find a more loving pair than Lily and James. Apart from the desire to be a Quidditch star and a penchant for getting into trouble, Harry was very much like Lily; she was passionate, clever, and witty. Ginny reminded him greatly of James; a James before Lily had gone and 'sorted him out' that is. The young redhead had a fiery temper, she was utterly hilarious, and she had a sly streak that was as long as his… Well, it was long.

"Dad _can_ see me, you know," said Harry softly, leaning into his side as they walked into the crowded wizarding pub beneath the bridge.

Sirius smiled and patted her on the back. "I know he can, Harry."

Harry frowned. "No, Sirius, you don't understand. I haven't exactly been… _honest_… with what happened last summer."

"Harry, don't," said Ginny quietly. "He needs to stay calm in here. If we draw too much attention, the glamours will falter."

Harry nodded. "You're right."

"Oho! What's this then?" asked Sirius curiously, as they sat down at a small table in the corner. "Secrets secrets are no fun."

"I'll tell you in a bit," mumbled Harry.

Sirius shrugged and signaled for the barman. "Three Butterbeers, I think."

After they had had a few drinks and he had thoroughly regaled the girls with stories of his adventures at Hogwarts, his goddaughter led him outside to a nearby railway bench.

"Sirius," said Harry lightly. "I… I want you to stay calm after what I tell you, alright?"

Ginny walked over to the ledge to stare out at the water surrounding Holyhead, obviously not wanting to hear what was about to be said.

"Ah," he said slowly, finding the redhead's behavior rather odd. He nodded towards Harry's friend. "Not good news then, I take it?"

"No," agreed Harry with a little laugh. "Not really."

"Fire away, Harry. No Death Eaters… No Aurors… I am the calmest I'll ever be."

His goddaughter sat beside him and smoothed her skirt nervously. "Well, first off, when I told you that I was malnourished and had to go to St. Mungo's, I was… _Well…_ that wasn't the whole truth exactly."

Sirius raised an eyebrow and Harry continued. "Erm… the reason I was malnourished is because the Dursleys, like usual, locked me in the cupboard… and… Well, they forgot to let me out, I suppose."

"Bunch of ruddy fatheads, the lot of them."

Harry shook her head at his joke. "Sirius, you… you don't understand. They _really_ didn't let me out."

Sirius' grin faded. "What exactly do you mean by 'didn't let you out,' Harry?"

She looked away from him. "I mean my body was discovered in the cupboard when the Weasleys came to get me on my birthday."

"Dis-Discovered your _body_?" asked Sirius, feeling the blood drain from his face "What do you-"

"I died, you see," said Harry simply.

"You… _died?_ I don't quite follow you."

Harry nodded solemnly. "I died in the cupboard and… and then I met my Mum and Dad. I know I won't ever be able to convince you, but I did; I met them and I remember everything they said to me. Mum is really wonderful and Dad is… Dad is really funny, but he's always a bit sad; always doubting that Mum is actually there with him and thinking that it was all in his head. But Mum _is_ there. They were real… they were both real. And… they told me to listen to you; to give you a chance to explain. They knew everything that had happened; knew things I could never have known. They… They warned me to not underestimate Peter, which is why Dumbledore came to see you. And… And Dad called me Prongslet too and-"

Harry's voice became a dull humming in Sirius' ears as the girl continued to recount everything that Lily and James had told her. He felt... Well, he didn't know what he felt exactly. It was a mix of things. He felt an intense rage towards the Dursleys, whom had apparently murdered his goddaughter; he felt sorrow for the deaths of his best friends; but most of all, as he stared up at the sky, he felt… _happy._ Somewhere out there, they were still together and one day… one day he would see them again.

Sirius held up his hand and Harry stopped talking abruptly. "You had me at 'Prongslet,' Prongslet."

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. "I thought you'd be furious and murder the Dursleys."

Sirius threw an arm around her and pulled her tight. "I'm absolutely furious, Harry, and make no mistake I _will_ make sure your relatives receive some payback, but I am also intensely happy; happy that my brother and sister live on in the next life; happy that _you_ are still here with me. How did that come about by the way? Was it… was it Lily's sacrifice? The blood protections Albus put up?"

"Oh, _no_, I don't think so," said Harry quietly. "I don't think that would have worked, since I just, you know, died normally. It's a bit confusing, actually. Dumbledore told me that my brain had been soaked in magic and that it survived after death, tethering my soul to the world… or something. I'm pretty sure I know what saved me too. It's this rune thing… I see it all the time and I have no idea what it is… neither does Dumbledore. It looks like a wonky double spiral."

Sirius balked. "Did you say a double spiral?"

"Yeah! Do you know what it is?" asked Harry excitedly.

Sirius shook his head. "_No…_ No, I don't. For a short period, while recovering from a nasty wound that I received during the war, I served as an Unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry. I often overheard two of my fellow colleagues speaking of a rune in the shape of a double spiral. Anne Greenstock was a kind, slightly odd woman, but Augustus Rookwood was a Death Eater; part of You-Know-Who's inner circle. I give you fair warning, Harry. Even though Rookwood is locked away in Azkaban, it is not certain that he will stay that way. I escaped, after all. In your lifetime, if you should ever come across him, run; just run. Rookwood was a long-term spy and an extremely powerful Legilimens. Do not, under any circumstances, let him enter your mind. There is no telling what he might do if he happened to learn of your miraculous recovery due to his life's work."

"Right," said Harry nervously, scratching her head and smiling in the exact same manner that James used to do when he was confused. "So… what did you do in the Department of Mysteries?"

Sirius patted her gently on the head. "To you, Harry, that shall forever remain a _mystery_."

Harry shoved him lightly with her shoulder. "Git."

"Why thank you, I do try."

His goddaughter giggled and leaned into him. "Will I be seeing you again before school begins? Could you come to the Burrow? Everyone there knows that you're innocent."

"I'm afraid not, Harry," said Sirius, rubbing the girl's shoulder consolingly. "Like before, I cannot stay at the Burrow. I would be putting Arthur at far too much risk. Also, until I locate Peter's whereabouts, I go where Dumbledore goes. And Dumbledore is heading out of country tomorrow to pick up a reclusive old friend of mine. I'm going to accompany him."

Harry sighed. "That's _really_ dangerous, Sirius. You'll have to go through all those magical checkpoints!"

"Ah, no, we will be taking a muggle bus," he said reassuringly. "When you're on the run from wizards, it's always best to travel by Muggle means. Apparition is risky, especially if old Mad-Eye is still on the job; his magical eye can follow apparition signatures."

The green-eyed girl looked up into his face and asked sadly, "Well, when will I see you?

Sirius winked at her. "Much sooner than you think, Prongslet."

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Hermione smiled privately to herself as she watched Ron play two-a-side Quidditch with his brothers.

He had insisted that she 'not watch him' as he played, so Hermione had brought along a book to hide both her eyes... and her blush. After what had happened last night, she couldn't look Ron in the eye without picturing that wonderful expression.

**/FLASHBACK/**

Hermione jolted awake as sounds of thunder rolled across the moor, shaking the windows of the Burrow. The storm had been blowing through Devon for an entire week and showed no sign of stopping.

She could tell from the position of the moon through the window that it was at least after midnight. Shivering, Hermione sat up in the bed that had been prepared for her in Ginny's bedroom. Harry and Ginny wouldn't be returning from camp for another three days. Hermione sorely wished they were here already; she didn't do well in storms while alone. Even though she knew that thunder was simply the sound of air rapidly expanding in a shockwave caused by the intense heat of lightning, it still gave her the willies.

Ron's bed creaked loudly above her head.

_He might have woken up too. Maybe I'll-_

It creaked again.

And again.

And again.

Frowning, Hermione got out of bed. As quietly as she could, she left the bedroom and crept up the stairs. The door to Ron's room stood slightly ajar and from within she could hear someone… _panting_.

Shying up to the door, she aligned her eyes with the crack and peered in.

Ron was…

_He's… oh my God!_

Hermione's squeak of surprise was loud, but luckily, at the exact same moment it escaped from her throat, an enormous peal of thunder rolled over the house and the noise went unnoticed. Clapping a hand over her mouth and leaning against the doorframe, she continued to secretly watch him pleasure himself.

Ron's mouth was open, his eyes were closed, his chest was heaving, and his length was in his hand.

Hermione bit her lip as her fingers twitched. The sight of her crush in his present state of undress was the most shocking, most arousing thing she had ever seen… and…

_There's no one around to see me..._

She couldn't resist. Lifting the hem of her nightdress, she slipped her hand into her knickers.

**/END/**

Hermione's smile widened and she raised the book just a little higher to completely hide her flushed face from view. Leaning back into the tree under which she sat, she closed her eyes and imagined that the unintelligible grunt the boy had let out during his climax had been her name.

_He wasn't thinking about you though, was he? He was picturing himself with someone far prettier… like Lavender… or Harry. He'd tell me if he liked me, wouldn't he? He'd tell me if he wanted me. No one… No one wants to kiss Beaver Cheeks. No one wants to kiss a girl with…_

Hermione sat up ram-rod straight as the ingredients for the potion popped into her head.

_I have everything I need right in my trunk! Mum and Dad will be furious of course… but it's a small sacrifice if... if Ron…_

Grinning excitedly, she gave Crookshanks one final pat, leapt up, and rushed off towards the house.

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Nicolas grunted and released as her warmth tightened around him.

Perenelle rolled off his body, breathing heavily and giggling into her long snowy-white hair.

Cabo, along with the knowledge that they would soon be passing on, had done wonders for their sex-life. It hadn't been this good for a thousand years.

"Do you really have to go, my love?" asked his beautiful wife, trailing her fingers lightly across his chest.

"I do," he said, softly kissing her temple. "Albus has unveiled a most disturbing threat to this world."

Perenelle frowned at him. "Are we not done? Have we not fought long enough? I do not like this."

Nicolas lightly smacked her bum. "But just think how much better the sex will be after our time apart. We'll be longing for another round by the time I return."

"You are incorrigible, Nico."

He planted a kiss upon her nose. "I will miss you."

"Go now, so you may return to me sooner."

"As you wish," he muttered, trailing his lips down across her pert breasts, before abruptly pulling away and walking out to the beach. Sitting down in the sand, he cleared his mind, freed his soul, and made the journey into the Astral plane. As the world brightened in color, the magic of all things stood out against the dullness of reality; it wove between the streams of life and time itself.

With a single thought, Nicolas passed into a nearby current and reappeared in the Courtyard directly next to the Fountain. Climbing the stone steps two at a time, he quickly found Albus in the Council chamber. "Are you sure this is the right path to take?" he asked beneath his breath. "I am wary of what some members might do with such information."

Albus nodded. "It is necessary, Nicolas. If I am to reconstruct the boy's mental corridor, I will need the full strength and focus of the Circles."

"And if they do not agree to such a dangerous venture?" probed Nicolas.

"They must," whispered Albus. "This opportunity is _far_ too great to let pass."

And so… the meeting began… Well, an entire day would of course be spent performing introductions, formalities, and utterly ridiculous traditions that made him sorely wish for a pair of earplugs; soul earplugs.

The members of the circles introduced themselves one by one by one, each presenting their titles. It was mind numbing. He had been the Grandmaster of the Mind magic circle for the past eight hundred years and he had become interminably bored with the proceedings.

Looking around the council chamber, Nicolas had no idea why they still called themselves 'The Seven Circles.' What with the string of dark wars throughout the century, there were barely enough Circle members to fill a tenth of the seats in the massive chamber. In the battle with Gellert, Albus had killed half of their already dwindling number when they made the mistake of joining with the Third Reich. After that, interest in obtaining a Magical Mastery and joining the Circles' ranks had virtually ceased all over the world. There hadn't been a new member in forty years.

The circle of Creation magic, the lost art, had been empty for centuries. Blood magic had one singular member: a very old vampire named Vlad that was long past his prime. Soul magic had a smattering of Masters to fill its seats: a few aging centaurs and a handful of wheezing wizards from the Middle-East. Mind magic consisted of four Masters: Albus, Anton Gorodetsky, Tai Shun, and himself. The circle of Rune magic was derived of twenty or so wizened Goblins and one singular witch who happened to be the Ancient Runes Professor at Hogwarts. The majority of the council's small number, almost entirely made up of humans, was divided between the circles of Physical magic and Craft magic.

It was extremely unlikely that this motley group of powerful magic users would ever risk their own hides for Albus' venture, but Nicolas would do his best to convince them, even if it meant revealing sensitive information about both himself and the Potter girl.

It had so shocked him to see her physically at the last Leyline of natural magic. No living body had set foot on that ground since Winzy's accidental apparition half a century previous. The similarities between both Potter and Winzy led Nicolas to believe that their appearance in the lost temple of the Seven Circles was no mere coincidence. They both bore the splitting scar of the horcrux upon their flesh; Harriet by Riddle and Winzy by Agrippa. The rune followed in their wake. They both were oddities of magic. Somehow, the Leyline had called to them; had brought them to the Fountain.

_But for what purpose?_

_How could love serve magic itself?_

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Her muscles aching, Harry collapsed onto the bench next to Ginny. "I never want to see a broomstick again."

"Here Here," groaned Ginny, pulling off her Harpies jersey and yawning tremendously. "I'm going to go to straight to bed."

For whatever reason, whenever Ginny changed out of her training gear, a strange, but entirely pleasant sense of déjà vu would wash over Harry and as her eyes performed their customary sweep over the girl's freckled chest, a rush of warmth would surge through her body.

Bending over, Ginny tugged off her knickers and Harry hurriedly looked away before she caught an eyeful of the redhead's rounded bottom. It had been getting worse and worse over the last few weeks; she simply couldn't look at her friend's nude body without feeling extremely… odd.

Ginny changed into fresh undergarments and sat back down next to Harry. "Are you going to change and come with me or are you just going to sit there like a lump?"

Harry slumped against Ginny's bare shoulder. "I can't move. I need to use the Rejuvenation tub or I won't be able to walk tomorrow."

Pulling on her dress, the redhead nodded into Harry's hair. "Yeah, I saw you take that hit from Miranda. It's amazing your leg is still attached to your body. Well, don't be too long, okay? I… I don't sleep well without you."

"Me neither," agreed Harry, smiling. She gave Ginny's neck a weak nuzzle and began to carefully strip, so as not to injure her body any further. "I'll be as quick as I can."

Ginny chuckled, stood, and picked up her bag, saying, "No you won't. It _is_ a bath, after all. I probably won't see you for days."

"Ha Ha Ha, _very_ funny," said Harry sarcastically, giving Ginny a sharp slap on the bum as she passed.

Her friend squeaked in surprise, giggled, and sent Harry her very best blazing stare as she exited the locker room. "Oooo, you'll pay for that one, Potter! It's the knees for you tonight!"

Harry grinned widely at the door as it closed behind Ginny.

_Looking forward to it, Weasley._

After she had fully stripped down, she wrapped a towel around her body, dragged herself into the baths, and sank into the healing waters of the crowded Rejuvenation tub with both a groan of pain and a sigh of pleasure. The last day of training for the Seekers had consisted largely of the first, second, and third string Harpies Beaters pelting bludgers at them as they performed dive runs. It had been brutal. Kiera Thompson, one of Harry's fellow Seeker recruits, had taken two hits at once that very nearly shattered her spine.

Despite the pain and constant exhaustion, the last two weeks had been some of the best she'd ever had. In a locker room full of women that were just as famous as she was and certainly more deserving of their fame, Harry was treated like any other normal recruit rather than the Girl Who Lived. On top of that, she was allowed to do her two most favorite things every single day: fly on her Firebolt and sleep together with Ginny.

_Ginny…_

Harry submerged herself up to her nose in the water so the other relaxing girls wouldn't see her heated blush. She didn't understand what was happening to her. The feeling was getting so intense.

Harry wanted _more. _

She wanted… Well, she didn't know exactly what it was... simply that she wanted it desperately.

Quite suddenly and without warning, seven girls left the large tub all at once, leaving Harry alone with…

_Oh no._

As the door to the baths closed behind the gaggle of chatting women, the towel-clad blonde smiled coyly at her and waded forward through the water. "Hahrie, I may sit with you? I am wanting… _company._"

Harry squeaked nervously, feeling her cheeks burn as the curvy girl sat down beside her. An urge to flee consumed Harry, but she couldn't leave right after getting in, not without healing up at least. For the moment, she had absolutely nowhere to run; she was trapped.

"Erm… hello, Marin," said Harry in an overly-genial tone, trying hard not to look into the blonde's mesmerizing sapphire gaze. "I didn't see you there."

Her smile widening, Marin brushed back her flaxen locks and purred sultrily, "Það er allt í lagi. I see _you_ for both of us, já?"

Harry's heart began to pound at the hungry look in Marin's blue eyes. She didn't understand what it was about this particular girl that made her so flustered, but whenever blonde was around, teasing and flirting with her, the annoying voice in the back of Harry's head that suggested outrageous things like 'I like the shape of Ginny's bum,' and 'I wish Marin wasn't wearing a shirt,' became extremely difficult to silence. It was like the girl brought out some inner animal within Harry; an animal that had been starved for far too long.

Harry supposed, however, that it had _really_ been brought out by Ginny. Marin was simply feeding it.

Ever since that night by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, Harry had felt like there was something more that she and Ginny should be doing together. When the redhead had admitted that she was jealous a few days ago, the feeling had intensified to the point of being uncomfortable. Harry knew it was hypocritical that she was so excited Ginny was jealous of Marin, when she had expressly told Ron to not be jealous of his sister, but… she simply couldn't help herself. Hearing the jealousy in Ginny's words that night… Well, it just made her feel good; it made her feel extremely… _wanted._

And yet still Harry wanted more; more than just her friend's jealousy. She constantly wanted to be with Ginny; constantly wanted to be touching the redhead in some way; constantly wanted Ginny to want to be touching _her_.

This was, unfortunately, the exact same feeling that washed over Harry whenever Marin was nearby. She desired something more from the girl than just basic friendship, but she simply had no idea what that something happened to be.

_No idea? Absolutely none?_ asked the annoying voice.

The way that Marin was currently trailing her fingernails across the upper edge of the towel that concealed her curvaceous body from view gave Harry a very strong inkling that the girl was about to become extremely aggressive. "_Look…_ Marin… erm… I'm really-"

The blonde cut her off. "You feel flatter, but not interest? You desire only boys? I have hear _all_ before. But you realize, Hahrie… your eyes and body do not say this. They follow and react to _my_ body. They say 'I _want_ Marin.' They scream it."

Harry felt the intense heat of her blush spreading down her neck and shoulders. "That's not… That's not true, Marin. I'm… I'm not like that! I'm… I'm not… really."

Marin laughed huskily and leaned towards her, "There is doubt in your voice. Who are you try to convince, me… or you?"

Harry opened and closed her mouth as she searched for a suitable reply to that, but she simply couldn't think of one, especially not while the girl was so close to her.

Marin sighed and scooted forward so that her ample chest was pushing into Harry's shoulder. "It is part of you. You must not deny it. I develop early and realize my attractions when I was only of ten years, but I feel free when I did. You must be honest with your heart."

Harry shook her head frantically, her eyes moistening as she did so. "I'm… I'm not… I'm… I'm-"

The blonde covered Harry's mouth with her hand. "Shhhh. You do not have to be one or other. I have been with many like you; all different types. Some see through shell of body and connect mind, some like feel skin on skin, some love to love, some find both arouse them, and some are like you: they are _all_ types. _That_ is why I like you, even though you are _very_ short and only now have begin to realize your attractions. I can tell you are this way, Hahrie. You are easy read."

Marin's reasonable words, along with her perfect body pressing into Harry's own, were too much to take in all at once. "St-Stop it," Harry pleaded, crying steadily and backing away from the beauty beside her. "I… I'm _not_ like that! It's wrong!"

Before Harry could even begin to react, Marin ripped off her own towel, straddled Harry's lap, and smashed their lips together.

To say that it was only 'nice' and that Harry 'liked it' was a _gross_ understatement. The annoying voice in the back of her head was suddenly at the front and it was screaming and cheering its approval in Harry's ears; drowning out all coherent thought. Marin's moist, silky lips, which were sliding wonderfully against her own, tasted heavily of chocolate. It was like she was back in the chocolatier's shop with Ron, drinking hot cocoa. The blonde's warm, wet breasts brushed lightly against the skin above Harry's towel, sending electric shivers down her spine and causing her chest to heave with a moan that was lost in Marin's kiss. With her mind mumbling 'no,' but her body shouting 'YES,' she gripped the Icelandic girl's firm backside and pulled her closer.

Hands threaded into Harry's wet hair and a tongue questioningly licked at her lower lip, asking permission for entrance. Opening her mouth obediently, Harry swirled her tongue against Marin's, reveling in the chocolaty bliss. Her hips involuntarily thrust upwards into the girl on her lap, who, in reply, thrust back down while giggling into Harry's mouth.

The blonde pulled away from their heated kiss to trail her lips back to Harry's ear. "Did _that_ feel wrong?" asked Marin breathlessly.

"N-No," stuttered Harry weakly, gasping in pleasure as Marin nibbled and sucked at her earlobe. "It felt… It felt…"

"It felt right?" breathed Marin, her hands falling to the edge of the towel that lay between them. "Denial is powerful thing, Hahrie. Do not let rule you. Now…" Marin pulled the cloth away from Harry's chest in a fluid motion. "Tell me you want me."

Harry groaned as the skin of their hips ground together. Knowing that her life would never be the same if she admitted it out loud, Harry weakly attempted to push the girl away and whispered, "No… I… _I can't do this_. Ginny's waiting for me and I need to-"

"_Tell me,"_ moaned Marin, caressing Harry's stomach with her fingernails.

The sensation was mind-numbing. "I… I…"

"Tell me, Hahrie, _please._"

Harry couldn't say it, but she also couldn't resist the aggressive girl that had been touching, teasing, and flirting with her for two whole weeks. Marin wanted her. And Harry wanted to be wanted exactly like this. _This_ was more. _This_ was what she had been missing. Sliding her hands up and down the blonde's magnificent upper-body, she asked quietly, "But… W-What about A-Amélie?"

Marin groaned in frustration and trailed her fingertips around Harry's bellybutton. "I do not care for her."

Harry's eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. "D-Do you care for me?"

Marin's hand sank ever lower. "Of course, Hahrie."

But the girl's warm smile as she said it didn't quite meet her eyes.

Frowning, Harry reached out a tendril and lightly touched Marin's surface thoughts. Even though the blonde was thinking in Icelandic, Harry could still understand the meaning.

'_Oh yes! I never thought it would be this easy with the Ginger whore absent. You are mine at last, Harriet Potter. Now hush and let me fuck your beautiful little body!'_

Harry gasped in shock at the seemingly kind girl's harsh thoughts.

S_pidery hands pinched her body. _

_No!_

Kissing Harry's neck, Marin brushed her fingers across Harry's center.

_Invasive fingers pushed at her folds._

_NO!_

Harry panicked. Moaning in misery, she pushed the blonde off her lap, turned on the spot, and disapparated with one thought in mind.

_Someplace safe. _

TWHUMP

"Chocolate frogs!" yelled a familiar, sleepy voice in her ear. "Yes, I'd like three of-" ***SNORE***

Shivering as the panic lessened and the feeling of Quirrell's fingers pinching at her faded away, Harry sat up, already knowing exactly where she was.

_Ron's room._

_Ron's… bed._

_On Ron._

_And the silly bugger is still asleep after I fall on him._

Harry smiled to herself and extricated her body from the bed, careful not to wake him, only to knock over Scabbers' cage with her elbow as she turned around. The little gate on the cage fell open and Scabbers, who looked extremely unhealthy, made a run for the open door.

Harry froze in fear as Ron groaned and sat up. He stared at her in all of her nakedness and mumbled, "Good dream," before falling back into the pillow and letting out another almighty snore.

Sighing in relief, Harry grabbed Ron's bathrobe to cover up and rushed downstairs. She didn't bother to look for Scabbers, seeing as the little fat rat needed to stop and sleep for an entire day after moving only a few feet in any direction. She grabbed a bit of Floo powder from the mantle, tossed it in the fire, stepped in, and whispered, "Holyhead Quidditch Stadium."

By the time Harry returned to the locker rooms, Marin, it seemed, had thankfully left. She dressed slowly, trying not to think about what had happened in the baths, but failing miserably. There was no denying it anymore. Marin's touch had aroused her. Marin's gorgeous body had aroused her. Harry had wanted to be with her; had wanted to taste every inch of the girl's smooth skin; had wanted to hear the blonde moan out _'Hahrie'_ in want and pleasure.

Harry leaned back against the lockers, closing her eyes in frustration. Their kiss hadn't felt wrong in the slightest. It had felt wonderful; blissful. How could anything that had felt so right be so wrong?

"There you are."

Harry jumped in surprise and whipped out her wand, a curse that would tear out the eyes of a target leaving her lips before she could even begin to stop herself. The jet of orange light sizzled through the air and slammed into the lockers on the far side of the room.

Thanking God that she hadn't hit anyone with the curse that she was sure Voldemort had used upon her father, Harry whispered sharply, "Who's there?"

Marin stepped out from behind the lockers, holding up her hands in surrender. "I know you come back, but I was worry, so I wait. I am very impress you can apparate."

"Don't sneak up on me!" cried Harry, far more angry with herself than with the blonde girl. "I could have really hurt you!"

Marin waved off the reprimand and leaned against the lockers. "It is no matter."

Harry pocketed the weapon and glared at her. "W-What do you want?"

"I want you, of course."

Her rage flaring uncontrollably, Harry stomped forward and slapped the girl across the face as hard as she possibly could. "No you don't! You want me to _'hush so you can fuck me.'_ You were _lying_ when you said you cared about me! I'm a Legilimens, you _bint_!"

Harry tried to slap the blonde again for both emphasis and satisfaction, but Marin, unfazed by the first, caught her wrist and pushed her up against the lockers. "I was _not_ lying. I like you very much and not for looks, Hahrie, even though you are most beautiful. You are not even my type; I like tall, neat girls and you are as small as I with this crazy black hair. Yet I still care for you. I am very impress by your flying; you are very kind to your friend; you were very open to me and did not judge; you have fire in your soul and I am drawn to it. I care for you because of these. Use Legilimency now. You will see I no lie."

Harry touched her mind and felt only truths. "B-But before-"

"I like _rough_ sex, Hahrie," interrupted Marin, pressing her body into Harry's. "I like to think rough in my passion. It make me… how you say… _horny_, já?"

Harry's blush came rushing back in full force. "But you called Ginny a… you know!"

The blonde giggled and kissed at Harry's neck. "A vændiskona? I am jealous of her, nei? She had what I want for so long. It mean nothing."

Harry gasped and closed her eyes in bliss as Marin sucked lightly upon her collarbone. "W-When I asked y-you if you cared for me, you gave me a fake smile, w-w-why?"

The girl abruptly stopped her pleasant ministrations and nuzzled the crook of Harry's shoulder. "I do not want to say specific. I saw your fear before you disapparate. I too know that fear and when you ask me if I care, I flash back to memory. We are kindred souls in misfortunes, Hahrie. It has make me want you even more. We can heal together."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry relaxed fully in the tight grip which Marin quickly redistributed to her arse. Harry's squeal would have been very shrill indeed had the blonde not smothered her lips with a kiss that was even better than their first.

"Come to my bed," Marin whispered against Harry's mouth. "I will try not to be rough."

Harry breathed out shakily. "_No…_ No, I can't, Marin."

Marin moaned and slipped her hands into Harry's tank. "_Please,_ Hahrie minn, I want you."

Harry shook her head and reluctantly dragged the hands back out. "I can't. I realized that I'm not quite ready to give up on someone else."

Marin sighed heavily. "The redhead?"

Harry's eyes widened. "How did you know that?"

Marin looked at her incredulously. "She follows you everywhere. She is very jealous whenever I am near you."

It took her a moment to realize what the girl was talking about. "_Ginny?_ No! Ginny's not like… I mean, I… I wish she was… but… _no_, she's definitely not like… like…"

"Like us?" whispered Marin softly. "The world will not end if you admit. I promise; you feel free."

Harry closed her eyes and let the words escape from her lips, far too tired to keep on fighting it. "Erm… y-yeah. Like us. Ginny and I aren't-"

The blonde cut her off. "SHH! Never say anything like that about anyone. That person be your soul-mate maybe? You will jinx if you say."

Harry raised her eyebrow. "Erm… If you say so."

Marin smiled brilliantly and brushed her lips against Harry's. "Who then?"

Smiling wistfully, Harry replied, "Ginny's brother, Ron. I… Well, I apparated to _him._ He's wonderful… and… Well, when he saw me naked, he said 'Good dream,' and then fell asleep again. He's got to like me a bit, right?"

Marin sighed. "Ahhh. You are _that_ type… that make sense."

Harry scoffed indignantly. "What does _that_ mean?"

Marin released her from the lockers and took her hand. "It mean you are a reactive lover. It mean you want those that want _you_ much more than you want the ones that don't. You remind me much of girl at my school who is complete opposite. She only like boys that at first are not interest."

"Oh… I… I dunno," said Harry, picking up her bag. "Maybe."

"Like I say, you are easy read, Hahrie. Come, let me walk with you." Marin pulled Harry from the locker room and they trudged hand-in-hand back to the Gryffindor girls' cabin.

"Hahrie, you will come next year, já?" asked the blonde quietly as they arrived at the little house.

"I'm signed just like you, so I suppose so," agreed Harry. "And if not, we'll eventually be Harpies together, eh?"

The older girl gave her a very large grin. "Já… but _I_ will be first string."

Harry smirked as they stepped onto the cabin's doorstep. "See you next summer then?"

Instead of replying, Marin pushed her up against the door and soundly kissed her goodbye. It was desperate, longing, and wonderful. Cupping her breast and nipping at her bottom lip, Marin pleaded with Harry, "Change your mind. Stay with me tonight. I know we only have met days ago… but I…"

"Do you… Do you love me?" asked Harry plainly, her breath heavy and hot.

Marin's large sapphire eyes stared sadly at her. "I do not know this. My love was steal from me by cruel man. But I want you… and I will miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Marin," said Harry softly, brushing the girl's golden hair back behind her ear.

The blonde gave her a half smile and nodded. "Oh… and I have advice. Do not tell all friends and family at once, if you decide to tell at all. You will need support, so tell one by one. And… I think it wise you not tell redhead girl first. She seem like type to… how you say… explode."

Harry leaned forward and kissed the girl's cheek. "Thanks. Write me a letter or two. I think my owl might enjoy a trip to Iceland or… Where do you go to school anyway?"

"France," said Marin lightly. "My Papa is liason between Ministries. Amélie is my schoolmate."

"France it is," agreed Harry. "See you."

"Kveðja, Hahrie minn. I will not give up on you."

Harry stood outside and watched Marin until she was out of sight, before opening the cabin door.

Her heart leapt out of her chest.

There, just inside the threshold, leaning against the wall, was Ginny.

Harry's mouth went dry. "Did… did you hear us?"

"Every word," the redhead whispered shakily, an unintelligible expression smeared across her face. "Every moan too."

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Ginny sat up, gasping for breath as her body came out of the nightmare for the third time that night. Even though Tom's dreams of death had stopped, another set of horrific nightmares had taken their place. They were always the same; always of a dark slimy chamber, blood red scribbles, and hands cutting into her skin. Every time she awoke from one, she would feel utterly miserable, like her soul itself was on fire, and this time was no exception. The searing ache in her chest due to Harry's absence didn't help matters either.

"_Why do you wake, Ginny sspeaker?"_

Groaning tiredly, Ginny held out her hand to the little snake that was curled around the bedpost. Although the magic had left her, Ginny could still understand Alice perfectly. She no longer heard the snake speak English, but the hissing still made sense in her head. It was like she was listening to Amélie and Marin speaking French, but could understand the meaning of the foreign words. Even though her tongue no longer automatically formed English words into the snake's language, with a bit of practice, Ginny had learned how to haltingly and poorly speak it.

"Essass," she hissed slowly, rolling her tongue. "Ssaiassshiafa soccsass."

"_You have a cat in your dreamss?"_ asked Alice curiously, sliding onto Ginny's fingers.

Ginny frowned and tried again to say 'Dream; I want Harry.' "Essass ssaiassshafa ssoccssiss."

"_I ssee. But Harry sspeaker hass been mosst troubled. I can tell. Perhapss sshe iss away, hoping to find ssolace. You sshould not worry, Chica."_

Ginny would have attempted to reply, had she not heard voices outside the cabin door. Placing Alice on the pillow, she climbed down out of her bunk and was about to open the door to tell the annoying plonkers off about the lateness of the hour, when something thumped against the wood and a familiar moan met her ears.

_Harry?_

"Change your mind. Stay with me tonight. I know we only have met days ago… but I…"

_Marin! Harry… what are you doing with her?_

"Do you… Do you love me?"

Ginny's eyes bulged.

"I do not know this. My love was steal from me by cruel man. But I want you… and I will miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Marin."

"Oh… and I have advice. Do not tell all friends and family at once, if you decide to tell at all. You will need support, so tell one by one. And… I think it wise you not tell redhead girl first. She seem like type to… how you say… explode."

_Tell me? Tell me what?_

"Thanks. Write me a letter or two. I think my owl might enjoy a trip to Iceland or… Where do you go to school anyway?"

"France. My Papa is liason between Ministries. Amélie is my schoolmate."

"France it is. See you."

"Kveðja, Hahrie minn. I will not give up on you."

After a moment, the door opened.

Harry stood there, staring at Ginny with her mouth hanging open in shock. Her clothes and hair were disheveled. Her knickers were sticking out above the waist of her jeans. Gloss, which Harry _never_ wore unless Ron was around, was smeared messily on her slightly-swollen lips.

"Did… did you hear us?" asked Harry nervously.

"Every word," Ginny whispered, horrible understanding finally dawning on her. "Every moan too."

As the silence between them stretched, tears welled in Harry's eyes; tears that pulled at Ginny's heartstrings. She quickly grabbed the girl's hand and tugged her all the way back to their bed.

Harry seemed hesitant, however, to climb the ladder. "You still want me s-sleeping with you?" she asked cautiously.

Ginny nodded down at her, feeling slightly numb. "I need you, Harry… and… and you need me."

Harry sniffled weakly, changed, and climbed up.

As her best friend lay down next to her, the ache in Ginny's chest slowly abated. Sighing in relief, she pulled Harry into a tight embrace.

Harry's breath visibly hitched and quickened as their bodies touched, which caused Ginny to frown miserably. It had _never_ been like that before.

Marin had ruined _everything_.

"I knew she would change you," Ginny muttered bitterly, nuzzling Harry's neck. "She's… She's gone and made you fancy girls."

"No…" sighed Harry, rolling over and clasping their hands together, making their charms clink and tinkle. "She didn't change me at all, Gin. Do you… Do you remember that night when Snape tried to break into my mind at dinner?"

Ginny lost herself in the deep pools of emerald that were boring into her. "I… I… I think so, yeah."

Harry's face turned a bright shade of red. "Do you remember when I landed on you after we had that tickle fight?"

Ginny nodded slowly, a smirk forming on her face despite the ridiculously tense situation. "I remember winning it."

Harry shoved her, her blush getting deeper by the second. "Be serious."

"I'm not Sirius, I'm Ginny," she said, smiling.

Harry groaned. "Oh, that was _terrible_, Gin. You're worse than Ron."

"Thanks," said Ginny smugly. "So then… tickle fight?"

Harry buried her red face in the pillow and mumbled slowly, "Well, something… _happened_… and… and ever since then I've… I've felt like there was something _more_ we should be doing; something we were missing, Gin. Marin just… helped me realize what it was."

Harry's blush spread down her neck as she said it.

The smile fell off Ginny's face immediately. "You… You wanted to… with _me_?"

Harry shrugged, but nodded slowly.

Ginny's heart began to race at a rapid rate as once again, she felt a strange tingling sensation on the tips of her breasts. "So… So when I found out about your reactions at night and offered to… _you know_… why didn't you just do it?"

A tear fell down to dangle on the tip of Harry's little nose. "I didn't know what it was; not until tonight! I kept telling myself over and over that it was wrong. I kept shouting down the voice in my head that was telling me to do things like that."

"_Keep_ shouting it down then," said Ginny forcefully, shaking Harry's shoulders. "Girl's aren't supposed to- How can you- I just don't _understand_, Harry!"

"What's there to understand?" asked Harry, a heartbroken sob escaping from her glistening lips. "I fancy girls, alright?"

"_No!"_ pleaded Ginny. "You can't! It's… It's wrong!"

"Am _I_ wrong?" mumbled Harry, wiping her eyes. "Am I a… a _freak_?"

Ginny frowned and looked away. She couldn't handle this. How was _anyone_ supposed to handle this? She didn't want things to change, but changing they were, right beneath her feet and Harry wasn't even putting up a fight. "I… What do you want me to say, Harry? It's not normal!"

"You said you were fine with it!" cried Harry miserably. "The other day, you said you had no problem with Alicia and Katie!"

"I don't! But _they're_ not my best friend!" shouted Ginny angrily. "_They_ don't sleep in my bed! _They_ don't take showers and baths with me! _They_ don't watch me undress every day! It's wrong for _you_! You're my Harry! _You_ can't be like this! You're _spoiling_ everything!"

"Why are you so angry?" asked Harry in a tiny voice, sniffling and picking at the collar of Ginny's nightie. "Last time… Last time you thought I liked girls, you pulled off your clothes and offered to shag me!"

"IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?" screamed Ginny furiously, throwing up her hands in exasperation. She sat up, tore off her nightie, yanked off her knickers, grabbed Harry's hand, and thrust it between her legs. Ignoring the pleasant sensation, Ginny screamed again, "IS _THIS_ WHAT YOU WANT?"

Harry let out a horrified shuddering gasp, yanked her hand back, slapped Ginny hard across the face, and turned away from her, curling up and shivering into the covers.

Ginny reeled not only from the blow, but also the expression of hurt on Harry's face; it cut deeply into her heart to know that she was the cause. Cradling her stinging cheek, but knowing she deserved the pain, Ginny whispered, "I… I shouldn't have done that. _I'm sorry._"

"You promised you wouldn't do this to me!" spat Harry brokenly. "You _promised_ me! You said, 'Never again.' You said 'Never ever.' You _swore_ to me you wouldn't hate me! I can't _lose_ you, Gin… _please!_"

"I'm _sorry_, Harry," cried Ginny desperately, clutching Harry's arm. "That was really awful what I just did, but I'm… I'm so _confused!_ You _know_ I don't hate you! I _love_ you more than anything else in the world! I love you so much that my heart _literally_ aches when you're not with me! I'd go to Hell and back for you, just like you did for me! I just… _I just don't understand!_ _Help_ me understand! I don't want things to change and I don't know what to _do_, alright? I'm afraid of losing you too and this _feels_ like I'm losing you! All this time… _Harry,_ I thought you liked Ron!"

"_N-Nothing_ has to change!" moaned Harry, sobbing into the pillow. "You _won't_ lose me! And I told you! I _do_ like Ron!"

"YOU FANCY _BOTH?_" yelled Ginny incredulously. "Then… just _choose_ to like boys and be done with it!"

"I don't think it works like that," mumbled Harry, her chest heaving violently. "I can't help it. I can't just _stop_ noticing that you're beautiful. _Please…_ stop yelling. You're really hurting my feelings, Gin."

At the word 'beautiful,' Ginny's anger and frustration was sucked out of her body like air being sucked into a vacuum. Exhausted and not caring in the slightest that she was starkers, Ginny fell forward, wrapped her arm around Harry's belly, and cuddled into the girl's back. "I'm really sorry," she whispered into Harry's soft jet-black hair that smelled of sweet pine with a dash of hazelnut. "I'm so _so_ sorry. You know I didn't mean to, Harry. I've… I've never really thought about _anyone_ like that… and… I just don't understand this at all."

"And you think I do?" asked Harry quietly, her tears trailing away. "I _just_ realized that I fancy girls less than an hour ago, Gin. I'm not entirely sure I even accept it, but I certainly can't _deny_ it anymore. I don't have the strength. I've been fighting it for too long."

Ginny choked on a small sob and rolled Harry over. "But everything will be different now. I don't like this!"

Harry threaded her fingers into Ginny's hair and said gently, "Nothing has to be different. I still love you just like I did before. I'm still the same person, aren't I?"

Ginny turned her cheek into Harry's hand. "I… I guess. But you… you fancy me now, don't you?"

Harry smiled weakly. "Bit full of ourselves, are we?"

"Oh shut up, Harry," said Ginny, sniffling and wiping at her eyes before they started to cloud over with moisture. "You know what I mean."

Sighing heavily, Harry ran her fingers over Ginny's cheek, across her bare shoulders, and down to rest upon her hip. An electric tingle shot down Ginny's spine at the contact.

"Yeah… I know what you mean," whispered Harry. "But the truth is I've never been able to see _'just'_ my best friend when I look at you, Gin. The very first day we met, I saw shining, cherry-red hair that I wanted to run my hands over. I saw a body that I wanted to touch and hug. I saw freckles that I liked to count one by one. I saw amber eyes that I could stare into for a lifetime. I think I've always fancied you in my head. I mean… I've always thought you were really gorgeous. I don't think anything's going to change just because my body is catching up with my mind. I won't act on it and I'm _never_ going to make you do anything you don't want to do. I know you don't fancy girls."

Smiling at the soft, heartfelt expression of love on her friend's face, Ginny reached out a finger to rub away the foreign sheen of gloss that covered Harry's lips. The green-eyed girl nipped at Ginny's hand as it neared her mouth, just as she always did.

Harry was right.

Nothing _really_ had to change.

Harry was still that same girl in the white dress that Ginny had desperately wanted to look at her. Harry was still the same girl that had written to her twice a week, every week, all throughout her year alone at the Burrow. Harry was still the same girl that thought Ginny's poor, ragged family were the most wonderful people in the world. Harry was still the same girl that would have given Ginny anything she wanted; still the same girl to whom Ginny wanted to give everything she had. Harry was still the same girl whose happiest memory was their meeting at the train station. Harry would always be _her_ Harry and nothing was ever going to change that.

_And besides… Harry still likes Ron._

_The only thing different now is… is that she likes looking at me naked…_

_That's… That's not so bad… especially since she'll never do anything but look._

_Nothing has to change, right?_

A very bitter and ugly feeling swept over Ginny as she methodically wiped away Marin's lip gloss from Harry's lips.

_But… But what if she finds a girl that she really likes who likes her too? She won't… She won't need me anymore!_

Harry smiled at her and placed a small kiss on her thumb.

_No…_

_NO!_

_I won't let that happen!_

With a butterfly winging around in her stomach, Ginny made up her mind. Rolling on top of the black-haired girl, Ginny straddled Harry's waist and pushed out her chest in what she thought might have been an enticing manner.

Harry quickly looked away, her face turning a bright shade of tomato-red. _"Gin,_ what are you-"

"I'm reinstating my offer," Ginny interrupted quietly. "I… I love you, Harry. I love you so bloody much and I want you to be happy. I told you I'd give you anything you wanted… I _really_ meant it. If… If you want me… Well, you… you can have me."

Harry's eyes flooded with sparkling emerald green and a soft whimpering moan left her lips.

At that little moan, Ginny's heart leapt and the butterfly's wings went into overdrive. A part of her, however small, liked the idea of having so much power over Harry; liked the thought that her body could drive the girl wild.

Ginny placed her hands on Harry's stomach and raised the shirt covering it inch by inch.

Harry let out a shuddering groan of pleasure as Ginny's fingers touched the bottom of her breasts. The butterfly frantically flapped its approval at the sound.

Just before the shirt revealed the rosy buds atop her friend's chest, Harry caught Ginny's hands. "_St-Stop,"_ she whispered breathlessly, her irises reforming. "Stop, Gin! This… This isn't what I want at all!"

Ginny rolled off of Harry and pulled the bed sheets over her bare body, feeling extremely odd and somewhat hurt that she had been refused. "I thought you-"

Harry cut her off, shaking her head frantically. "Not like that! _Never_ like that! I want _you_ to want _me_ too."

"Oh," said Ginny, frowning at the ceiling and feeling upset with absolutely no inkling as to why. "That's… That's good."

Harry nodded rapidly. "Marin said something that made a lot of sense to me. She said I was a reactive lover and that I liked people that liked me. I don't ever want to be that way with someone that doesn't return my feelings, Gin."

Feeling extremely awkward, Ginny grabbed her knickers and nightie, both of which she quickly pulled on.

Leaning forward, Harry placed a lingering kiss on Ginny's jawline. "I appreciate the sentiment though."

As the night wore on and Harry recounted her experience with Marin and Ron, Ginny found herself _slightly_ more comfortable with the idea of her friend liking girls as well as boys. It made Harry seem so much less perfect; so much more human; so much more on Ginny's level.

"-said 'Good Dream' and then he… Gin, are you even listening?" asked Harry pointedly.

"Nope," said Ginny with a grin.

Harry lobbed a pillow at her head. "Twit."

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It had not been a very good day. In fact, it had not been a very good year. She had started to believe that the gift of true prophecy would never come to her and _that_ was a very depressing thought indeed for the great-great-granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney.

Sybill took another long swig of sherry to help soothe her self-doubt. Unfortunately, she hiccupped inopportunely and immediately began to choke as the liquid went down the wrong pipe. She choked _so_ hard that she thought for a moment that she might have lost consciousness. "Oh, dear me! A bit too much for tonight, I think."

Sybill promptly poured out her drink.

0000

0000

0000

0000

Harry was smothered in a hug the second she emerged from the Burrow's fireplace.

"_Mione,"_ gasped Harry in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione released her, stood back, and smiled widely. "Ron invited me over for the week. It figures that the storm would clear up right as the two of you got here. It's been horrible all alone at night."

Harry hadn't heard a word her friend had said for she was far too busy staring at Hermione's shiny, perfectly straight, perfectly-sized teeth. The large buckteeth that earned the girl so much ridicule from Pansy and her ilk were completely gone.

Hermione seemed to notice that both Harry and Ginny were ogling her mouth so she offered an explanation. "I used a potion that I found in one of Lavender's old copies of Witch Weekly. Does it look alright?"

Ginny nodded rapidly, but Harry continued to stare open-mouthed, unable to tear her eyes away from Hermione's face. It was utterly amazing what such a small change made to the girl's appearance. The bushy-haired girl looked… good; _really_ good;_ too_ good.

Ginny elbowed her lightly, causing Harry to jump out of her shocked trance. "It… It looks great, Mione. But... what were you doing with Lavender's-"

"MUM!" yelled a voice from upstairs. "Have you seen Scabbers? I was sure I had put him in his cage, but I can't find the little bugger anywhere!"

"WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE, RONALD!" cried Mrs. Weasley from the kitchen. "It's your own fault if you've lost him! Have you checked behind the toilet? You know how he likes to sleep there."

Ginny snickered and Harry felt her face turning a bright shade of red. There was nothing on this earth that would ever make her admit that she had been in Ron's room last night, for she was fairly sure that Ron, albeit not being the most logical of blokes, would be able to put two and two together.

"I swear, Mione," yelled Ron as he came thumping down the stairs from the top floor. "If your bloody cat ate my rat, I'll never forgive you!"

Hermione shouted up to him. "Crookshanks couldn't have, Ronald! There's a charm on him that negates his hunting instincts. I thought specifically of you and Scabbers when I bought him, so I asked the owner at the Magical Menagerie to place any charms on him that would make him docile. There's no way he could have eaten your rat."

"Then why has he been eyeing-" Ron froze in his tracks when he saw Harry, his ears turning a brilliant shade of pink. "Erm… hey, mate."

Judging by the nervous look on his face, Harry knew that she was right. Ron could clearly remember his 'good dream' and would _definitely_ be able to make the connection.

Reaching out with her mind, Harry lightly touched Ron's subconscious and pleasantly suggested that it would be _absolutely_ wonderful of him to put her naked image out of his thoughts for the moment. Suggestion was by far the weakest and least effective form of Legilimency, but Harry liked it, given that it only acted upon the subconscious mind and that the target could willingly choose to completely ignore a suggestion if it actually made it to their conscious. It was a bit like silent encouragement.

It seemed, however, that Ron had taken the bait. His ears became considerably less pink and he threw an arm around her shoulders. "I've been beating the pants off the twins in two-aside with your Nimbus, Harry. Thanks for that."

Hermione coughed.

"Oh, right," said Ron. "Mum wants me to tell you that I think your gift is far too generous and that I want to return it immediately."

Harry giggled. "And are you going to?"

"Not a bloody chance," muttered Ron. "Not when I can beat the twins with Percy on my team. Oh, by the way, Percy's been made Head-Boy, so don't mention Hogwarts unless you want him to bore you to death about his responsibilities as-"

Ginny let out a sudden coo of delight and rushed away from them. She returned a moment later with a very large, very fat, very ugly cat lounging lazily in her arms. "Hermione, is this him? Crookshanks?"

Hermione nodded, glowing with happiness. "He's _gorgeous_, isn't he? I was going to buy an owl, but I heard him mewling at me from the top shelf. He likes Ron ever so much."

Ron frowned at the cat, as it yowled in agreement. "He's always following me around and rubbing on my legs. Ugly bugger is driving me bonkers."

Hermione took the fat cat from Ginny and cuddled it. "Don't listen to the mean boy, Crookseywooksey. He's just jealous because his rat isn't as pretty as you are."

Ron laughed._ "Pretty?_ It looks like its face has been beaten with a shovel."

Harry had to agree with Ron. The cat's head _was_ abnormally squashed. She reached out to stroke Crookshanks' belly, but as soon as her hand touched its fur, the animal hissed venomously and swatted at her with its claws .

"Ouch!" yelled Harry, rapidly drawing back her scratched, stinging fingers.

"Oh! Bad Crookshanks!" scolded Hermione, dropping the cat to the floor.

"Docile my foot," muttered Ron, nudging the cat with his toe. "Go on, _shoo_."

"Don't kick at him, Ron," said Harry softly, sucking on her bleeding thumb. "It's alright. I think I startled him."

Before the cat slinked away around the corner, it turned its head and stared directly into Harry eyes. For a split-second, she could have sworn she felt it touch her mind with a thought tendril.

Dinner that night was a mildly unpleasant affair for Harry. For some reason, Mrs. Weasley had steered her into a seat between Percy and Hermione. Percy repeatedly attempted to engage her in discussions about school discipline while Hermione simultaneously discussed her future Arithmancy class, which Harry had absolutely no interest in. To top it all off, she had to bear both while watching Ron stare dazedly at Hermione rather than herself.

Ginny coughed loudly and excused herself from the table, pulling Harry with her.

"Thanks, Gin," she mumbled when they had reached the sanctuary of the redhead's bedroom. "I was going mad."

"I could tell," said Ginny, grabbing her brush from the dresser and turning on the wireless. "Now… sit. I demand quality hair-fiddling time. I'm in withdrawal."

Grinning, Harry fished around in her trunk for her copy of Intermediate Transfiguration and jumped onto the bed to crawl into Ginny's lap. Considering how horrible the redhead had reacted yesterday night, Harry was slightly amazed at how quickly Ginny had apparently gotten over the revelation that she fancied girls. Ginny had even teased her about it this morning as they dressed. Harry truly wanted to believe that her friend had already fully accepted her, but she had a nagging suspicion that the redhead was still upset about something.

_Well, she'll tell me eventually._

Her smile widening, Harry leaned back into the warmth of Ginny's chest and settled down to read.

**BOOM**

Although Harry's Quidditch reflexes were considerably quicker, Ginny was the first to react. As an enormous bone-rattling shockwave slammed into the walls of the Burrow, the redhead rolled their bodies sideways, using her own to shield Harry from the debris of the window as it exploded inwards. Even though loud screams echoed out from all around the Burrow, Ginny's weak, choking grunt of pain didn't go unnoticed by Harry's ear.

Harry, her heart sinking in ocean of dread, turned over. The first thing she noticed was the expression of intense agony smeared across her Ginny's beautiful freckled face. The second thing she noticed was the steady stream of blood that was dribbling from the corner of her Ginny's full cherry-red lips. The third thing Harry noticed was the large splinter of wood protruding from her Ginny's chest.

The breath in her lungs left her body in an ear-splitting shriek of anger and anguish.

Ginny let out a shuddering gasp of "H-Har-ry," causing crimson to spurt from her mouth in a torrent.

Things became very hazy for Harry after that. She heard several loud bangs, quite a lot of shouting, and a terrible pounding beat in her ears.

Hands held her down.

Ginny was torn from her grasp.

Her forehead exploded in agony. A rush of anger that she had only felt once before coursed through her veins, thrumming with the thud of her heart. It was rage, madness, and infinite pain; the pain of a damned soul, burning in fire for all eternity.

There were flashing lights and hurricane winds.

There was a sound of thunder and a burst of wonderful red.

And then there was black; all consuming and silent.

"_Ennervate."_

Harry blinked. The black was replaced by a deep midnight-blue, speckled with twinkling lights.

Harry slowly came to realize that she was lying flat on her back and staring up at the night sky.

"That was a hell of a fight, Prongslet," said a familiar voice breathlessly. "I reckon you're better at charms than your mother. And by God you're fast."

_Sirius!_

Harry sat bolt upright, but instantly regretted doing so as the world blurred with a dizzying haze.

A large pair of arms wrapped around her and pulled her tight. "It'll pass, Harry. Just give it a moment. Stunners to the head always tend to disorient the target."

Harry moaned her agreement and leaned into her Godfather's broad chest.

Eventually, her surroundings stopped spinning and she was able to take them in. They were sitting in the garden of the Burrow… or at least what was left of it. All of the plants around them were either upturned or smoldering in flame. Gnomes darted about, bemoaning the loss of their homes and shaking their tiny fists at Harry.

The Burrow itself was in much better shape, apart from the kitchen and Ginny's room, both of which had their outer walls blown away.

The Weasleys themselves were another matter. Each and every one of them sported no less than ten cuts and bruises. Mr. Weasley's nose looked _very_ broken, Percy had a large gash on his arm, and Ginny… Ginny was missing.

The image of blood pouring out of the redhead's mouth came rushing back to her.

"_Ginny! _NO!"

"Calm down, Harry!" cried Sirius, clutching her arms tightly. "Calm down! She's perfectly alright! The emergency healers are fixing her up as- Oh, bloody hell! Her eyes are going red again! Remus! Help!"

There was a flash of red and sweet blackness overtook Harry once more.

"_Ennervate."_

Harry's eyes popped open. The sky was gone, replaced with a familiar whitish-pink ceiling, cherry-red hair, and bright, amber, gold-flecked eyes.

"Hey there, piggy," said Ginny softly. "I have tea and biscuits for you downstairs."

Harry gasped and leapt on her, the hourglass flipping on its own. She inhaled a great breath of strawberry and frantically kissed at the skin where her lips had landed, a feeling of warmth spreading through her entire body.

"No, Harry," pleaded Ginny, her hands threading into Harry's hair. _"St-Stop."_

Harry's eyes widened at the word and she sat back. Horror washed over her as she flipped her magic back to her core and realized what she had just done.

She had been kissing Ginny's stomach… and what was worse… they most definitely _weren't_ alone.

Professor Dumbledore smiled at her bemusedly from his conjured armchair, while Sirius and a familiar mousy-haired man that she couldn't quite place stared at her like she was from a different planet.

"Oh," said Harry sheepishly. "Erm… I…"

Professor Dumbledore held up his hand to stop her. "No explanation is necessary, Harry. Now that you are awake, let us adjourn downstairs."

Sirius hauled Harry to her feet.

"What are you doing here?" she asked softly. "I thought you were out of the country."

Sirius nodded. "We were on our way back by bus when Albus suddenly pulled out an unregistered portkey and made us grab on. It took us directly here. The Ministries will surely be in a tiff knowing that someone broke all of their fancy international checkpoints. Of course, I'll be the scapegoat, won't I? Tomorrow's headlines will read _Sirius Black: Mass Murderer and Traveler Extraordinaire_."

Harry giggled and leaned into his side as they entered the living room. "It's really good to see you."

All of the Weasleys, plus Hermione, were gathered in the one room and all of them, including Ron, were looking at her apprehensively as if she were a bomb about to go off.

Harry sagged miserably. "So… So I went wild again, did I?"

"I'm afraid you did," said Dumbledore lightly, conjuring another armchair. "With wand in hand, I might add. But don't worry. All the damage, the worst of which was a healer's severed hand, has been repaired."

"I cut off someone's _hand?_" asked Harry, horrified. "I never meant to! I sort of just… lost it."

"You can say that again," interrupted Sirius excitedly. "My God lass, you blew apart the house, dueled off Molly and Arthur without a shield, and laid waste to the healers that tried to separate you from Ginny. It took both me _and_ Remus to get you down. You'd make a fine hit-wizard, Harry."

"That's quite enough, Sirius," said Dumbledore, rummaging in his pockets. He pulled out a jar of candies. "Would anyone care for a Lemon Drop?"

Harry took one gratefully, popped it into her mouth, and sighed as a feeling of immense calm washed over her.

"What happened though, Albus?" asked Mr. Weasley. "What was that explosion?"

Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his cushy armchair. "That, Arthur, is an excellent question to which I am still pondering an answer. Somehow, a very specific ward that I myself placed around the Burrow was broken from the inside, causing the entire ward scheme to collapse violently."

"What ward?" asked Hermione interestedly.

"I placed it just weeks ago," said Dumbledore quietly, adjusting his half-moon spectacles. "It was a very complex scheme of my own creation that would prevent all who bear the mark of Lord Voldemort from crossing through it. The question is… who in this house broke it and why?"

"Albus!" cried Mrs. Weasley. "_None_ of us would take down the wards!"

"And yet here we are," mused the Headmaster, popping a Lemon Drop into his mouth. "Quite wardless."

The familiar man, Remus, whom Harry now remembered from the many photographs of her parents, asked in a gentle calming voice, "Could they have discharged? Too much magical interaction?"

Professor Dumbledore shook his head. "_No…_ No, they were grounded."

Remus frowned. "So it was definitely on purpose. Has anyone come and gone from the house recently? Anyone new? Has anyone gone missing?"

Everyone looked around, shaking their heads and shrugging.

Everyone, that is, except Ron.

"Sc-Scabbers is gone," he said softly, his eyes fixed upon the carpet. "I couldn't find him anywhere."

"Scabbers," asked Sirius. "Who is Scabbers?"

Ginny clapped her hands over her mouth. "Oh Merlin! _Ron_… you don't think… _do you?"_

Ron nodded solemnly. "He's missing a toe…"

Harry suddenly caught on and her heart dropped out of her chest.

_I let him out. I LET HIM OUT!_

"Who's missing a toe?" asked Sirius dangerously.

"Oh dear," said Professor Dumbledore. "This is most surprising. Arthur, how long has Scabbers been in your family?"

"Twelve years," said Percy, answering for his father. "I found him in the garden."

Sirius nearly shouted, "Who is Scabbers?"

"He's… He's my rat," stuttered Ron.

The walls started to shake.

"Your _rat?_" growled Sirius. "_Accio_ Scabbers!"

"That spell has never worked on him," said Percy slowly. "I had always wondered why. But it's because we weren't using his given name, wasn't it? My word… all this time…"

"_Accio_ Peter!" screamed Sirius furiously.

The entire room waited in tense silence. With every passing minute, Sirius got angrier and angrier.

When the vase in the corner shattered, her Godfather's rage exploded. _"He lied to me!"_ hissed Sirius. _"_If he was marked… that means… they didn't _torture_ him! Peter _willingly_ went to the Dark Lord! I SHOULD HAVE KILLED THE LITTLE RAT!"

Remus placed a hand on Sirius' shoulder and steered him towards the door. "Not in here, Sirius. Outside."

Harry stood up abruptly. "Wait, I… I have something I need to say."

"_No_, Harry," moaned Ginny beneath her breath. "Don't."

"I have to," Harry mumbled back. "I… last night I apparated to Ron's room when I got a bit frightened at camp. I knocked over Scabbers' cage… and… he got out; _Peter_ got out. This is my fault. I'm… _I'm sorry."_

Harry cringed as the room erupted with shouts. Turning, she ran for the solitude of Ginny's newly repaired room. She didn't bother closing the door, knowing that Ginny would only be a few steps behind her.

Harry collapsed into the bed.

It was only a moment before a hand fell on her shoulder.

"Gin, I-"

But the hand didn't belong to Ginny.

Harry sat up, her cheeks heating to ungodly temperatures.

The hand belonged to Ron.

It was a very long time before either of them spoke.

Ron was the first to gather the courage. He touched her hand gently and whispered, "It's not your fault, mate."

"Yes it is," said Harry in a small voice.

"No… it's… it's mine," said Ron slowly. "I never lock Scabbers up; I normally only close the cage door, which always seemed to be enough. "S'my fault."

Harry remained silent. Ron could believe what he wanted, but Harry knew that she was the only real source of blame.

"So, about last night…" muttered Ron, looking away from her. "I remember you being… very wet. Were you in the shower or… or something?"

Harry wanted to die on the spot. "Bath," she mumbled. "Don't ask me what made me disapparate. I don't want to talk about it."

Ron's fingers entwined with her own. "Why did you apparate to _me_ though? Why not Ginny?"

Harry swallowed nervously. "I… because… you're my Knight, Ron. I needed you to... to protect me."

Ron slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to his body. "I haven't been doing a very bang up job of it, have I? I… I still have nightmares about the forest."

Harry ran her hands over his broadening chest and whispered into his neck, "It doesn't matter. I _always_ feel safe when I'm with you, Ron. Ginny is… Ginny's like fire. She's warm and comforting and… and I need her, but sometimes she… sometimes she can burn me. It's not like that with you. I understand you completely. You're my best mate."

Ron threaded his fingers into her hair, instead of ruffling it like usual, he pushed it back behind her ear. "And you're mine, Harry. I'll protect you until the cows come home. I… I love you."

Harry's heart soared and she sat back so their faces were inches apart. "I love you too, R-"

**CLANG**

Harry jumped away from him at the clatter of metal and breaking china.

Hermione and Ginny stood in the doorway. Ginny carried a tray of biscuits, while Hermione, who had clearly been carrying the tea tray, was empty-handed, the broken teacups rolling around at her feet.

"Mione," breathed Ron. "I…"

Hermione's fists clenched and she darted from the room before anyone could say another word.

"I'll go after her," offered Ginny weakly.

"No," said Ron, standing up abruptly. "Stay here. I'm going."

Before Harry could even begin to protest, he was gone, leaving her staring blankly at the door.

"He doesn't know what he wants," said Ginny reassuringly, sinking down on the bed next to her.

Harry shook her head. "No… he… he knows exactly what he wants. He just can't choose."

Ginny frowned, but said nothing more.

Harry put it out of her mind and rounded on Ginny. "And you! What were you _thinking_, rolling over like that? You _never_ should have done that! You almost died!"

Ginny reddened. "_What?_ You're allowed to save me, but I'm not allowed to save you? That's not how this works, Potter!"

Harry opened her mouth to argue, but Ginny covered it with her hand.

"Shut it," she growled. "I love you, but you can be such an idiot sometimes. So just… just shut it. I'm knackered and I don't want to fight with you. We've been fighting so much the last few weeks and it's hurting my heart… Well, actually, that may just be left over pain from the stake that impaled my lung."

Harry sighed heavily when Ginny removed her hand. "I'm sorry, Gin. I just… I saw you like that and I just…"

"I know," said Ginny, closing her eyes. "If I had a piece of You-Know-Who in my head, I don't think I would have reacted any differently."

Harry smiled and fell quiet, curling up into Ginny's arms. She was nearly asleep when the redhead whispered in her ear. "Harry?"

"Mmmm?"

Ginny lightly trailed her thumb around Harry's bellybutton. "That… That thing you did with your tongue. Did Marin do that to you?"

"What thing?" asked Harry sleepily, rubbing her cold feet on Ginny's legs.

"N-Never mind," said Ginny quietly. "It's nothing. Hogwarts tomorrow, eh?"

Harry nodded and cuddled her plushies tightly. "Yeah, maybe this year will be normal."

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Luna stood on tiptoe, watching and waiting for those extraordinary green eyes to come through the barrier.

Daddy smiled and took her hand to help her balance.

Luna smiled back. Daddy was much happier than he had been last summer. His ongoing investigation of Stubby Boardman was proceeding exceedingly well. Luna supposed it took his mind off of Mummy. She still heard him crying at night, but during the day, as he worked, he was very chipper. It was amazing that he could be chipper here of all places, what with all the Dementors floating above the rafters.

Luna wondered vaguely if Harry would like to meet Daddy. It seemed appropriate, since she _was_ going to ask the green-eyed girl to marry her if the rules ever changed.

Luna saw them come through the barrier together; one with shiny red hair, the other with glistening black. They both looked lovely; older, taller, and sporting the beginnings of hourglass figures that looked just like Mummy's. Just the sight of them was making her feel very warm and tingly.

Quite suddenly, Harry disappeared from view, as if perhaps she had fallen over or had been kidnapped by an invisible Sprocklefrock.

Luna dragged Daddy towards the spot where Harry had disappeared.

There was a blinding flash of brilliant green light; green light the exact color of Harry's eyes; a color that both she and Mummy were most familiar with.

Screams and shouts of panic echoed out from around the barrier.

The steam engine of the Hogwarts Express was blown off the tracks.

Green and red lights filled the station.

The silvery animals holding the Dementors in check disappeared as Aurors flanked the entrance to the platform.

A high-pitched, piercing cackle of laughter rang out over the heads of the fleeing crowd. It sounded very familiar... and yet not familiar at all.

Luna tugged on Daddy's hand, pulling him in the opposite direction.

But he didn't move.

He wasn't even standing.

Daddy was lying on the ground.

He was staring up at her with an expression of shock etched into his unmoving features.

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**Yes, I _did_ just do that.**

**Thanks for reading.**

**Feedback is always appreciated and keeps me motivated.**

**Chapter art is up.**

Not my best work, I know it. Chapter's a bit stilted and it's too dialog heavy, but I wasn't in an exposition mood after the last two detail-ridden chapters.

Coming out, even to a close friend, is a really _really_ difficult experience for most, thus emotions are deliberately over the top.

Winzy, a student of Cornelius Agrippa (an actual historical 'alchemist' who is mentioned only once in the Potterverse), is a character I'm borrowing from Mary Shelley's famous short story The Mortal Immortal.


	20. Interlude 2: Molly's Misgivings

No cliff resolution just yet.

**Interlude 2: Molly's Misgivings**

_What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god__._

_-WS_

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Molly had long since given up trying to persuade the two from sleeping in the same bed; they both got so much comfort out of it and she simply couldn't bring herself to forbid them. The embraces that Harry and Ginny shared while sleeping had always been rather innocent… until now. When she opened Ginny's door that morning to wake the three sleeping girls up, she nearly had a heart-attack at the sight of her daughter wrapped around Harry in an embrace that would make a scarlet-woman blush.

They were turned toward one another with their bodies pressed together tightly and their legs intertwined. Ginny's arms had slid into Harry's T-shirt to wrap around the black-haired girl's shoulders, lifting the hem of the shirt high above the girl's breasts. The left hand of Molly's adoptive daughter had slipped under the hem of her actual daughter's nightie, had buried into the purple knickers beneath it, and had come to rest upon Ginny's backside. Their lips were mere millimeters apart and their breathing was decidedly heavy.

Molly understood that Harry couldn't help her nightly arousal, but to see her nearly thirteen-year-old baby girl in a similar state, clearly having an _extremely_ vivid dream, was far more than she could handle. Pulling out her wand, she gently separated the two and levitated Harry into the spare cot. Both girls moaned miserably as they lost bodily contact, but thankfully didn't wake up.

Down in the kitchen, Molly's hand trembled as she poured herself a cup of _very_ strong tea. She _knew_ something like this was going to happen. She simply _knew_ it. But… she had ignored it; she had turned a blind eye, thinking that it was only a phase. She should have realized that their relationship was getting more intense with every passing day. There were so many signs she had blatantly ignored: Harry going into the Chamber alone, Harry using the Dark arts for Ginny's sake, Ginny insisting on accompanying Harry to Privet Drive, Ginny's soulless body staring at a copy of the photograph they had taken at Christmas day in and day out, Harry submitting to the power of Lucius Malfoy so she could return Ginny to her normal state, the way they had constantly been touching when Ginny was finally herself again, and the small twinkle that alit Harry's eyes as she looked at Ginny after the two of them had returned from training the previous morning.

Something had happened at that training camp; something massive. She was sure of it. And after what she had just seen, she was sorely wishing that she had done more to stop their relationship from progressing as far as it had; had done more than separate them at the Dinner table; had done more than sending them off to do separate chores around the house; had done more than 'tutt' at them when they wrestled and tickled each other in ways that were more affectionate than was decent while in front of the rest of the family.

A little voice at the back of her mind whispered,_ 'What are you fretting over, dear? Harry's a good girl… You know they love each other more than life itself. What's there to be upset about?'_

"They're far too young…" argued Molly softly. "And it's simply not right." _  
_

"What's not right, Mollywobbles? Who's too young?"

She jumped at the sound of her husband's voice, nearly spilling her tea. "Don't sneak up on me like that, Arthur. You know I don't like it."

His large hands slid around her belly and his lips kissed her ear. "Really?" he said with a laugh. "I don't recall that, dear. In fact… if I'm remembering correctly, I believe we conceived Fred and George in this very spot after I had snuck up on you."

Molly turned in his arms, patted his chest, and said with a smile, "Yes, and just look at how well they turned out. Unless you want another set of mischievous twins, I think you should take a nice cold shower, love."

Arthur turned pink, but stared at her rather intensely.

Leaning up to kiss him, Molly whispered against his lips, "I love that you're actually considering it."

He grinned, kissed her, and pinched her bum. "Always. Now what was that sour look all about?"

Molly sighed and picked up her tea, taking a long sip before speaking. "I… I walked in on your daughter and Harry this morning."

"Oh?" Arthur asked, fiddling with the cupboard door as he searched for his mug.

"Yes," she said softly. "Arthur, as they slept, they were… _touching._"

"Aren't they always?" he asked with a chortle, closing the cabinet and pouring his tea.

"_Beneath_ their clothes, dear."

Taking a rather inopportune gulp, her husband choked on the amber liquid. Putting down the cup and wiping his mouth, he simply said, "Ah."

_"Ah?"_ asked Molly incredulously. "Ginny was very nearly coupling with Harry and all you can say is _'ah?'_"

"Well…" he said slowly. "It's not… It's not _really_ that surprising, is it?"

Molly's eyes nearly bulged out of her head. "They're _girls,_ Arthur! They're far too young as well!"

"Too young?" he asked, chuckling. "Weren't you thirteen and I fourteen the first time we-"

"That's not the point," she interrupted quickly, her cheeks heating. "We loved each other and had already agreed to marry."

"And you think they _don't_ love each other?" he asked with a frown. "That's fairly petty, Molly, considering all the evidence pointing to the opposite."

"Of course I don't think-"

He held up a hand to stop her. "I know we grew up in a different time, dear, but it's not our place to decide who our children decide to love. _I_ love Ginny and I know you do too. Whatever choices she makes, I'll support. Anyway, I think a decision like that is a long way off. Ginny's just as stubborn as you are."

"But… Harry is in _love_ with her, Arthur! I could see it in her eyes!"

"You _could_?" he asked with an infuriating smile. "Even with the drool coming out of her mouth when she looks at our son?"

Molly huffed indignantly. "It's _different_, Arthur. It's simmering beneath the surface. The second she realizes it, Ginny will-"

Her husband cut her off. "_So what_, Molly? What if she does? What will _you_ do? Will you ostracize your own daughter? Will you forbid her to love Harry? Given Ginny's nature, you do that and she'll push you away entirely, entrenching herself even further in what she believes in."

She mouthed listlessly, searching for an answer that wouldn't come.

Arthur pulled her to his chest and wrapped her in a hug. "I know you're confused, Mollywobbles; I can't say that I understand it myself. But those two girls love each other more than any I've ever seen; more than you or I could ever hope to comprehend. You weren't there when Ginny saw Harry's body in that cupboard. You didn't see her heart splitting. You didn't see her compassion evaporate. You didn't hear the agony in her cries. I've seen my friends and family put under the Cruciatus. This was far _far_ worse. A part of me died seeing my little girl hurting like that."

"Oh _Arthur,_" said Molly softly, burying her eyes into his nightshirt. "I'm sorry, dear."

"It's quite alright, love," he said warmly, kissing the top of her head. "If you're really _truly_ upset about this, then I suggest a series of nice quiet talks with Harry and Ginny to discern each of their feelings. Offer your opinion, but don't force it on them. Now… how about you join me in that cold shower?"

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**Le Fin**

**Next chapter soon.**


	21. Chapter 18: Just Behind the Seams

So… hello again. I have no real excuse for the time between updates. I took a break over winter hols and it took till January to get back to writing. The first draft of this chapter was shite… so I scrapped it. The second was filled with me mutilating my characters… so I scrapped it. I'm still working on the third… which is… _satisfactory_… but I can't make you all wait any longer so I'm cutting it in half and giving you the part that I'm happy with.

The desire to tell you the entire story's plot in an author's note is festering in my mind like an itch I can't scratch. But… I can't let the cat out of the bag; not yet.

I am, however, going to give you the teeniest tiniest hint. All I'm going to say, and I can't stress this enough, is that the love between Harry and Ginny is absolutely positively **NOT** _'meant to be'_ or _'fated'_ or any other such rubbish. **NOR** does their connection force them to love each other. A Butterfly Effect exists solely **WITHIN** the realm of possibility for the Potterverse and thus, it strictly adheres to the three central themes of the books: death, the power of love, and the struggle between doing what is right or doing what is easy. (I know I've said all this before to my more interested reviewers, but everyone should read through the story keeping these things in mind.)

**Chapter 18: Just Behind the Seams**

_The mind is the greatest prison of all._

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There is a room, inside a room, inside a circular room. Inside this room are benches. The benches surround a pedestal. Floating above this pedestal is a rune suspended by nothing. And on September the 1st at 10:39 AM, the rune pulsed with a golden light.

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BOOM BOOM BOOM

…

BOOM BOOM

"_Harry," _groaned Ginny miserably, pulling the sheets above her head to drown out her mother's incessant knocking as it increased in both pace and volume. "Harry, please make it stop_._ Put up a charm."

Her friend's sleepy, answering grumble, which she thought would have come from the spot right beside her, echoed up from… the floor.

Frowning, Ginny shifted beneath the covers to find that Harry had indeed vacated their bed. Leaning over the side of the mattress, she stared down at the black-haired girl's sleeping form.

Her lips twitched upwards in a benign grin.

Both of the plushies that Harry was snuggling had somehow found their way into the girl's mouth.

Looking at her like this, it was hard for Ginny to remember that Harry was three months _older_ than she was.

Reaching out a finger, she softly poked at Harry's alabaster cheek. "Oi, Piggy… wake up."

Harry's eyes fluttered open and Ginny, as always, let out a tiny gasp of shock as the overflowing pools of dazzling emerald swept over her.

"What are you doing up there," asked Harry in a tired, confused voice. "No, wait… what am I doing down here?"

Tapping Harry gently on the nose, Ginny smiled. "A clumsy lump like you? I reckon you fell out of bed."

Harry nipped lightly at her outstretched fingers. "Be nice. It's far too early for a ribbing."

"Ohhh… alright," said Ginny jovially, rolling off the bed to land with a loud _thwump_ on Harry's cot. "I suppose I can let you off the hook just this once."

As Harry opened her mouth to reply, Mum, who must have become extremely tired of knocking, thrust open the door. "UP! The three of you… Get up! We're going to be at the platform nice and early this year. I'll not have the two of you missing the train for a second year in a row!"

Her mother gave her a rather intense look before bustling out of the room.

Yawning tremendously, Ginny stood, stretched, grabbed a brush from her dresser, and plopped back down onto the mattress to begin what would likely be another fruitless attempt to tame her friend's hair… not that she actually _wanted_ to tame it. The ongoing struggle between her hands and Harry's silky, black locks was less like a battle, and more like an enjoyable game. Ginny would brush out one protruding spike and another would immediately pop up; she would braid a few strands of hair together and, instantly, a previously formed braid would come undone. To get the messy hair to do anything more than fall in a jumble of waves, spikes, and curls was no small feat and Ginny always felt an enormous sense of accomplishment whenever she managed it.

"Morning, Mione," said Harry tentatively as Ginny pulled her backwards to sit between her legs. "Ready for Hogwarts?"

Instead of offering Harry any sort of reply, the brown-haired girl on the cot next to them gently pushed back the covers, stepped into a pair of white slippers, and quietly left the room.

As the door closed behind Hermione, Harry sighed dejectedly and sank backwards into Ginny's chest. "Bugger… She's furious with me. Do you think she thinks I broke our pact?"

"She didn't look very angry…" offered Ginny consolingly. "Maybe she's just not feeling well.

Harry shook her head vaguely. "No… I don't think so. I've never seen Hermione in a rage with anyone except for Ron, but I recognized the look that she gave me last night. It was like I had stabbed her in the heart. No, she's angry alright… I'm just getting the silent treatment."

"I suppose my brother didn't do much to settle her down then," said Ginny softly, playing with the tips of the other girl's hair. "Well_,_ no surprises there, eh? But don't worry, Harry. She'll come 'round."

"I don't know about that," Harry mumbled morosely. "You know how Hermione gets. She's even more stubborn than _you_ are."

"I'm not _that_ stubborn," grumbled Ginny stubbornly.

Harry giggled and patted her lightly on the knee. "Of course you aren't."

Ginny shoved her. "Shut it, you… or I'll give you pigtails."

Breakfast at the Burrow was an extremely uncomfortable affair that morning. Ginny truly hated moments like this. Varying levels of discontent were oozing out of every chair's occupant like pus from a Bubotuber plant. Not a sound was made apart from the loud gargling purrs of Hermione's cat and the clink of silverware on china.

Percy was, amazingly, not talking about his schoolwork. He sat quietly, bearing a rather sour look upon his face. While Ron had cared for Scabbers a great deal in the three years that the little rat had been in his care, it was nothing compared to what Percy had felt for the grimy thing. Her older brother was… _Well_, he was Percy… and according to Fred and George, he didn't have very many friends at Hogwarts. So Scabbers… Peter Pettigrew… _a murderer_… had taken on the role of his best friend for nearly ten years. The only reason he had parted with the rodent in the first place was because he felt terrible that he had been given Hermes as well while Ron, his favorite little brother, would be going to school without a familiar. Considering how disgusted Ginny herself felt that the cause of Harry's orphan status had been living in their house for over a decade, she figured that it was hitting Percy rather hard.

Ron was rolling his sausages around his plate, not looking at anyone. Ginny couldn't quite tell exactly what was wrong with him… but she was quite sure that whatever it was had something to do with the reason Hermione was boring holes into his head with her gaze.

_Oh Ron… what did you say to her?_

Mum, for whatever reason, was leveling Ginny with a steady, scathing look. There was clearly something her mother desperately wanted to rage at her over, but was thankfully managing to keep it to herself at the breakfast table.

Ginny assumed that Fred and George were being uncharacteristically somber due to the fact that Sirius had left during the night without saying goodbye. Ginny didn't know what exactly had caused it, but during Harry's birthday party, the glamoured man had done or said something that had instilled an intense idol-worship within the twins. When she had asked them why they were so worked up, they had promptly told her to 'shove off.'

Harry was keeping her head down and shoveling food into her mouth faster than Ron could at his hungriest, a clear sign that she was feeling guilty for everything that had happened last night.

Her father, like Ginny herself, was observing the rest of the family. His eyes never left the Prophet, but she could tell he was watching nonetheless, trying to anticipate the outburst that would send the Burrow into a state of unbridled chaos.

_Enough of this._

"Well," drawled Ginny dryly. "This is a _bit_ awkward, isn't it?"

The simultaneous reactions from around the table went above and beyond what she had been hoping for. Her mother tutted her sternly, Harry snorted and a jet of milk came shooting out of her nose in a great spurt, Percy's lips twitched upwards, Ron made eye contact with Hermione, Hermione squeaked and quickly focused her gaze elsewhere, and the twin's fell backwards out of their tilted chairs.

Her father calmly folded his newspaper and smiled warmly at her. "Considerably more so now… thank you, dear."

Ginny returned his large grin and rubbed Harry on the back as the girl continued to choke on her milk. "No problem, Dad."

After that, the rest of the morning flew by in a swirling cacophony of warm laughter and frantic shouting as the Burrow's occupants searched for their mislaid possessions. In what seemed like no time at all, Ginny found herself standing next to Harry, staring at a familiar brick barrier.

"I have to say… it would probably be for the best if we didn't run this time," said Ginny quietly. "Who knows what might happen."

"_Aww,_ come on, Weasley," coaxed Harry, flashing her with a gleaming-white, toothy smile and bumping their hips together. "For old time's sake."

As the simple phrase bounced around her mind, a tremendous deadweight lifted out of Ginny's heart and a small sigh of relief fluttered past her lips. Hearing her own words rolling off of the girl's tongue was like taking a large gulp of Wiggenweld Potion; it healed a wound that had been festering for far too long.

Nothing was going to change. _Nothing._ No matter what happened, nothing would ever change how she felt about Harry… and nothing would change how Harry felt about _her_. She wasn't going to be left behind.

_I am good enough. I AM good enough for Harry Potter._

Ginny took the green-eyed girl's calloused hand and smiled as her charm spun around her wrist to meet its twin. Leaning into the arm of the enormous, snuggly, blue overcoat that Harry had been gifted by Hagrid the previous year, she whispered under her breath so the rest of the family wouldn't hear her. "Will you make me a promise, Harry?"

Harry shrugged and nodded. "Course I will. Well… as long as I can keep it, that is."

Ginny squeezed the hand resting in her own. "Promise me that we'll always do this; promise me that on the first day of every September, we'll come here and run through this barrier together… even when we're crotchety old ladies and can't run anymore."

Harry's jaw fell slightly slack and she gaped at Ginny in surprise. "Wh-What?"

Leaning forward, Ginny softly nuzzled the girl's cheek and whispered, "Please?"

The girl shuddered and, after a moment, her arm slid around Ginny's waist. "_Yes_… a million times… yes. I wo-"

A hand fell to her shoulder.

"Enough of that, dears," chided Mum, gently tugging th apart with an indecipherable expression smeared across her face. "You two are going through first this time. Off you go."

Placing her hands on the trolley handles, Harry turned to face the brick wall and nudged Ginny's hip.

"Three…"

Ginny beamed at her. That one little touch said all the things that her mother had stopped the black-haired girl from saying; all the things Ginny never got tired of hearing.

"Two…" she replied softly, nudging Harry back.

"One!" yelled her friend happily, pushing off with a great whoop, as if she had just taken off on her broomstick..

The scarlet steam engine exploded into view as they emerged from the brick wall side-by-side.

Ginny reeled as she was hit by a hundred different sensations at once. One among the lot was particularly startling: it was _freezing._

Everywhere Ginny looked she saw icicles; they hung from the lamp posts, from the train, and even from the tips of a few noses. As shivers ran across her body like a wildfire sweeping across the moors, every ounce of the excitement and happiness she had been feeling rushed out of her body in a great _whoosh_. All that was left behind was grief. The most _horrible_ burning pain seared in her heart, yet it didn't cause her to cry out. It didn't feel like a real hurt. It felt rather like a memory; a vivid memory of all her sadness and agony. It felt like the memory of running her fingers over a pair of dry, cracked, bloodied lips. It felt like the memory of spindly hands melting her flesh. It felt like the memory of having been consumed… _eaten_… bit by little bit.

Barely able to remain standing upright, she reached out for Harry's warm, comforting arm.

But…

It wasn't there.

Confused and slightly scared, Ginny turned.

Harry had stopped several yards behind her. She was frozen in place, her hands clenching at the handles of her trolley in a death-grip. Her breath was heaving in her chest and her terror-filled eyes were wide, focusing upon some unseen horror that was lurking just out of Ginny's sight.

The sound of loud, rattling breath… no… of a _hundred_ rattling breaths, drawn in unison, echoed down from the ceiling.

Harry's eyes rolled upwards into the back of her head.

Ginny gasped and rushed forward to catch her friend as she fell, but a large man and his cart inconveniently blocked the way. She heard the crunch of Harry's nose even with twenty feet between them. Somewhat surprisingly, when Ginny finally reached her, Harry was conscious and kneeling on all fours. Her hair was hanging into her face, her shattered nose was dribbling blood onto the stone platform like a leaky faucet, and her body was shaking with silent uncontrollable sobs.

Ginny frowned. Her best friend didn't cry over something as minutely painful as a fractured nose. No… something was wrong; _terribly_ wrong.

Harry looked… broken.

Ginny knelt down next to her. "Harry, are you alright? What _happened?_"

"I saw… I saw…" Harry trailed off as her body shook violently.

Ginny reached into the veil of ebony hair and cupped the girl's cheek. "I'm here… you can tell me."

Harry raised her head slowly. "Well, I saw… _me._"

Ginny screamed and stumbled backwards, her heart pounding rapidly against the walls of her ribcage.

Harry's eyes, once a sparkling emerald, were…

_Red. _

A sickening grin that Ginny knew all too well slowly stretched across her friend's face. Along with the blood dripping down from her nose, it transformed the girl's pretty visage into something horrific.

Terror… _absolute terror_… flooded through Ginny's body as she realized that Harry wasn't sobbing…

She was laughing.

"T-Tom," Ginny stuttered weakly. "P-Please… don't."

Sneering derisively, Harry raised her wand and leveled it squarely between Ginny's eyes.

The world's movement slowed to a snail's pace as the emerald-green spell soared towards her through the air. Her mind went painfully blank. The only thought she was able to fully-form was that she would have liked to go flying with Harry one last time.

And then… something heavy slammed into her side, knocking her down to the ground.

The jet of poisonous light streaked through the air where her head had just been and slammed into the back of a middle-aged woman that was hugging her daughter goodbye.

Shrieks and screams of terror erupted from the surrounding bodies as the woman fell to the ground in a splayed heap.

Ginny heard Harry shout an incantation and a mighty explosion rocked Platform Nine and Three Quarters. The steam engine of the Hogwarts Express was blown twenty feet into the air, landing with an earsplitting crash fifty yards down the track.

Unbridled chaos broke out among the crowd as the hundreds of people milling about the train all panicked as one. Some ran for the barrier to disapparate, some made for the train's compartments, and some simply dove for cover, but each and every one of them trampled and shoved the rest to get to their desired choice of safe harbor. Aurors in royal-blue and DMLE officers in grey swarmed around Harry, blocking her from Ginny's view, only to be blown backwards seconds later with the force of a cannon. Barrages of spellfire danced through the air in a blur of color.

Percy, quite clearly the one that had just saved her life, shouted into her ear, "Get up, Ginny! Run! Get to the barrier!"

Her legs, however, refused to move. "But… _Harry-_"

Harry's laughter rang out above the din of the battle, but it wasn't the warm and tinkling laugh that Ginny was so familiar with. It was _his_ laugh; Tom's high-pitched cackle disguised within Harry's voice.

"I have to help her!"

"There's nothing you can do! NOW GO!" Percy yanked her to her feet and pushed her roughly towards the barrier, simultaneously shielding a bolt of orange light from hitting the young girl next to them that was pleading with the motionless body of her mother to wake up.

Ginny cried out as she was caught in the stampeding crowd clambering out of the brick wall. She needed to stay! She had to help!

But struggling was no use. Ginny was stuck in the center of fifty bodies all jostling her in the opposite direction.

She fell painfully as the families around her disapparated, completely oblivious in their panic to the crowd of muggle spectators that had developed to watch hundreds of people pouring out of a seemingly solid wall only to disappear moments later.

One such muggle, a chubby young man with kind, oddly-familiar, brown eyes was clutching a small plastic baggie and staring down at her amusedly. He silently held out his hand in an offer to help her up.

As he pulled her upright, Ginny glimpsed the contents of his little bag. Her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as an idea rapidly began to take shape in her mind. It was by far the greatest, strangest, and most dangerous idea she had ever had. The chance of success was so infinitesimally small that it was relatively pointless to even try… but she had to do _something_ and this was all she could do.

Diving into the pocket of her jeans, Ginny frantically pulled out her one galleon monthly allowance and asked the boy, "Excuse me, would you trade me that bag for this gold coin? It's worth about five pounds, I think. I'm sorry to ask, but it's _really_-"

The boy shoved the bag into her hands before she could finish. "Here… It's on me, Ginny. You look really desperate. I'm trying to lose a few kilos anyway. Just a little moment of weakness, you know? Save me from myself, will you?"

Ginny nodded gratefully and turned away to dart back to the platform, but froze mid-step as the boy's words sank into her panic-muddled brain.

_Ginny? I never said… Save him from…_

Ginny gasped in shock and whirled around, suddenly realizing _why_ his dark-brown eyes seemed so familiar. They were the same pair that haunted her nightmares. In her dreams, they were cold and maniacal, promising pain beyond pain. However, these were warm and… _gentle._ She had only ever witnessed one other occasion in which those eyes had showed true kindness.

But… the boy was gone. Not a soul in the crowd seemed aware that a rather rotund teen standing within their midst had suddenly vanished into thin air.

Forgetting for the slightest moment the events taking place on the platform, Ginny smiled down at the very solid bag resting in her palm and whispered, "_Thank you_."

It might have been her imagination, or it might have been a distorted breath carried on the wind, but Ginny heard his voice echoing softly in the distance.

'_No… It is I who is grateful, Ginevra Weasley. My debt to you shall never be paid in full. Now go. Save your friend.'_

Ginny didn't need telling twice. Bolting back to the barrier, she stuck her wand through the wall and yelled, _"EXPULSO,"_ before dashing through it. The crowd on the other side had been knocked backwards just far enough for her to squeeze through.

The sight that met her eyes was devastating.

Dementors, hundreds of them, flew through the air with wild abandon, feeding off the hopes of the remaining combatants. Ginny could see the anguish flash across every face except Harry's whenever one of the cloaked monstrosities got too close.

Bodies were strewn _everywhere_; at least twenty littered the immediate area around Harry, while the rest were scattered randomly about the platform. Some lay unmoving, while some lay moaning and bloodied. While the fight itself still raged fiercely, the Aurors, what with the heavy losses, had clearly realized that they were outmatched and had retreated out of the open, choosing instead to battle from cover along with a few brave civilians. Ginny saw her mother, father, and Percy crouching behind a column and firing stunners at Harry every chance they could get.

However, neither they, nor the other fighters, could land a single hit.

The black-haired girl danced about within the circle of bodies, ducking and weaving through the spellfire that passed through her nearly corporeal shields with practiced ease. She was flinging an onslaught of magic the likes of which Ginny had never seen. Great snakes of fire and arcs of black lightning erupted from her wandtip with fluid grace. Golems of sulfur and stone rose around her with the simplest flicks. Shadowy creatures of nightmare dragged her opponents out into the open to be dispatched one by one with flash of green.

Ignoring the danger, ignoring her every inhibition, Ginny raised her wand, ran forward into the middle of the fray, and shouted at the top of her lungs, "Oi! Tom!"

Ginny vaguely heard her mother's scream of dismay as Harry immediately sent a burst of emerald hurtling in her direction.

But she was ready for it; the words were already leaving her lips.

"_Tarantallegra!"_

A jet of identical green erupted from her wand and collided head-on with the dreaded curse.

It happened just as it had before. As the spellfire faded away, a thin thread of golden light materialized between the twin wands, splintering into thousands of offshoots to form a protective golden dome. The dome rose slowly into the air to hover a few feet from the ground. A golden circle bulged at the center of the thread and the beams connecting the wands began to swirl and spiral around it, slowly dragging them closer together.

Ginny shuddered as a blissful sensation of warmth spread through her body, beating back the icy-chill emitted from the cloaked monsters that were swarming over the transparent dome like moths around a flame. The warmth was achingly familiar and it tugged painfully at her heart.

She wanted that warmth; she wanted it _so_ badly…

She wanted her Harry.

It became steadily more difficult to hold on to the thrumming shaft of holly as they drew closer together, for Harry was fearfully tugging and twisting her wand to break the connection. Ginny realized with a lurch of fear that if the girl kept at it, the thread would definitely snap when it became short enough.

She simply couldn't let that happen. She wasn't going to let him win... not again.

Somewhere, deep down in her gut, Ginny _knew_ that this was the solution. Why else would he have appeared, if not to repay her? Stealing herself, she took a firm hold of her violently vibrating wand and tossed the bag Tom had given her directly at Harry's face.

The black-haired girl halted her frantic attempts to break the connection and snatched it out of the air reflexively.

Ginny didn't know whether this Tom had the same little bit of humanity in him that _her_ Tom had, or whether the reaction was simply shock, but the bag of gleaming multi-colored gumdrops did the job it was meant to do: it broke his concentration.

The wands, now only a few feet apart, jumped together like magnets, pulling both Harry and Ginny along with them.

Harry let out a shriek of agony as the golden beams of the double-spiral wrapped around her, dancing across her skin. Like water circling down a drain, the crimson within her irises was sucked into the darkness of her pupils, revealing the sparkling emeralds that lay beneath.

Ginny gaped as the rune in miniature appeared on both her left wrist and Harry's right, before it, along with the glowing dome, softly faded away.

Slowly, they drifted back down to earth. When her feet touched the ground, Harry crumpled and slumped forward into Ginny's arms, sobbing quietly.

"It's alright," Ginny crooned gently, pressing a soft kiss on the girl's forehead. "H-He's gone."

Shivering in disgust, Harry buried her eyes into Ginny's neck. "_No_… he's not. He's… he's just… _waiting_; waiting till he can come out again."

Ginny opened her mouth to say that she wasn't going to let that happen, but a strong pair of hands wrenched her roughly away from Harry, tugging her arms behind her back in a painful hold.

"What are you _doing?_" she yelled angrily, fighting to free herself as a blindfold, a gag, and several ropes snapped into existence around her friend's body. "No! Let her go! That wasn't Harry!"

Ignoring Ginny completely, a tall dark-skinned man in royal-blue robes hauled Harry to her feet. Pinching the bridge of his nose in exhaustion, he shouted to the surrounding Aurors, "Alright… _Alright,_ we're done here. Clean-up and Medical squads will arrive shortly. In the meantime, help who you can and portkey the seriously wounded straight to St. Mungo's. Scrimgeour, get these two into a pair of holding cells and make sure that Potter's is high-security. No one goes in or out until the situation has been assessed."

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Immersed deep within his thoughts, Albus absentmindedly stroked the closed petals of the crimson flower upon his desk.

Missed chances; there were far too few and much too many. They cluttered the path he had walked in life and their various outcomes were all he could ever think about.

The Circles had disbanded without reaching any sort of agreement. Even though he had revealed to them that Tom had created multiple horcruxes, one of which was young Harry, the council had hesitated. Even though Albus had explained that a venture into the mind of the soulless boy was necessary to expediently discover his secrets, the council had hesitated. Even though Nicolas had shown his true identity to support the effort, the council had hesitated.

It was simply another missed chance. He would have to take another road to obtain memories of Tom; a road that he feared would take years… maybe decades… to gather enough information and piece it together.

While the Circles would reconvene on the next solstice, Albus had a feeling that he would be unsuccessful yet again in gaining their trust.

He couldn't blame them, however. They had thought him untrustworthy and weak ever since that day upon the eve of war; ever since that missed chance to change the world. He had fled, unwilling to learn who it was that had fired the spell that killed Ariana. He had let Gellert run rampant for twelve years before finally facing his fears. No… he couldn't blame them in the slightest. He wouldn't trust his sanity to a man like himself either.

Even though Albus had done his best to put it behind him, the day still burned vividly in his mind.

**/FLASHBACK/**

Albus grimaced as he slipped unnoticed into the old mansion with ease. There wasn't a single ward blocking his entry. For a man plotting a coup to overthrow the German ministry, Gellert seemed decidedly overconfident.

As he strode quickly though the corridors to the main hall, he noticed that the mark of the Hallows was displayed upon every bit of the décor. It shamed him that he had once been a part of this. It shamed him that their plans as boys had driven Gellert to believe that genocide and muggle warfare were means to achieve the greater good.

But Albus was going to put a stop to it tonight… once and for all.

With six sharp flicks of his wand, he disarmed, bound, and asphyxiated the two men that were guarding the doors to the stateroom. Casting a quick revelation charm to identify how many lay in wait within the room, he vanished the doors and stepped through.

Although it had been decades since they had seen each other last, Albus' eyes found Gellert immediately. Even now, after so many years, his heart still flipped at the sight of him.

Knowing he had been detected the second he stepped through the threshold, Albus raised his wand and fired a reductor curse straight at the man's head just to prove that he was serious.

Gellert was out of his chair and dodging before the spell had even left Albus' wand. The red beam of light blew a gaping hole in the armchair, flew past the blonde's ear, and cut down one of the three wizards that stood on the other side of the table.

A wide boyish grin stretched across Gellert's face as their eyes met. Wiping the ash of the smoking armchair from his cheek, he held up a hand to stop the two remaining men from attacking. "Wand's away, Gentlemen… neither of you are a match for this man. It's nice to see you _too_, Albus. It has been far too long."

"I wish it were under happier circumstances, Gellert," said Albus flatly.

Gellert's deep voice shook with laughter. "What happier circumstance than the eve of my revolution? Surely you've come to congratulate me… old friend."

As Gellert finished his last word, he withdrew a long notched wand from the sleeve of his billowing robes.

Albus blanched. He hadn't wanted to believe the rumors. "It's true, then? Y-You have the Elder Wand?"

Gellert held up the wand to his eyes. "I was hoping you would notice. Yes, for some time now it has been in my possession. All we ever dreamed of sitting in the palm of my hand… Well, all _I _ever dreamed of. For you, I suppose it was the stone. Hmm…"

A flash of sadness broke through the heartless mask upon the blonde's face. "First, your parents… and then… your sister. For what it is worth, I _am_ sorry, Albus. She was never meant to-"

"This is no longer solely about Ariana, Gellert," spat Albus spitefully, refusing in his heart to accept the man's apology.

Gellert's cold expression snapped back into place. "EXACTLY! This is about _so_ much more! _Consider_, Albus, the greater good."

Albus shook his head and leveled his wand at Gellert. "_Nothing_ can justify what you're planning, Gellert. This must end… and _I_ must end it."

Gellert sneered at him and raised the wand of legend. "Is that so? Well, I can't let you do that, Albus… so it seems… that we must duel."

Albus frowned, thinking of all the destruction that would reign upon the surrounding village. "No… Not here. I won't sacrifice any more innocents. As members of the Circles, we shall duel according to tradition. I, Albus Dumbledore, Grand Sorcerer of the Seventh Circle do hereby invoke the ancient rites of combat. Do you agree to my challenge, Gellert Grindelwald, Master Sorcerer of the Seventh Circle?"

Lowering his wand, Gellert strode forward, held out his hand, and snarled, "As you _wish_…"

Albus clasped it firmly, completing the contract necessary for transport. There was an almighty jerk behind his navel and a second later, his feet slammed into the surface of the ancient dueling platform.

Torches all around them burst into life, casting the Arena of the Circles into stark relief. Loud popping sounds bounced off the vaulted ceiling as hundreds of their fellow Masters apparated in to watch. While the location of the arena was widely known, it was entirely impossible to enter unless a duel was taking place… which wasn't very often.

Gellert slowly walked to the far side of the platform and turned. "Mind or magic, Albus?"

"It is your choice, my love," Albus said softly.

Gellert's cold expression fell away. "Still?"

Albus nodded. "Always."

The blonde man slid the Elder wand into his sleeve and snapped his fingers, causing two chairs of stone to arise from the rock.

"I as well," muttered Gellert. "Now… let us begin."

**/END/**

Albus closed his eyes and sank backwards into his armchair, suppressing the memory of their mental duel from which he had fled. For years after finally locking Gellert away, he had agonized over his missed chance to stop the great war before it started; to save sixty-two _million_ lives.

But after nearly driving himself to madness, he eventually learned that dwelling upon those days brought only unneeded grief to his doorstep.

He had to focus on the present. He had to focus on Tom's-

Albus lost his train of thought as a vaguely familiar lynx patronus leapt through the wall to hover above his desk. Kingsley Shacklebolt's hurried voice echoed off the many silver instruments that were scattered around the circular office.

"_Dumbledore, Potter went mad. Attacked at the platform. Destroyed Hogwarts Express. Twenty-five dead, six in critical care, three permanently wounded. Your presence is required at the Ministry."_

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The grizzly-haired Auror tossed Harry roughly onto the cold stone and slammed the cell-door shut. The hum of powerful wards snapping into place buzzed loudly in her ears, intensifying her already pounding headache to an almost unbearable point.

Groaning in pain, she crawled to the door, pressed her thudding temples against the icy-metal, and let the numb feeling that weighed heavily on her heart lift.

Furious sobs bubbled in her chest as she cursed Voldemort and all who followed him to the very worst sort of hell. He had taken _everything_ from her: her family, her home, and now… her entire life. There was _nothing_ left. Never again would Ginny sleep by her side. Never again would Ron ruffle her hair. Never again would Hermione throw an arm around her shoulders. She was going to rot away in prison until the day they carried her out to the grave… and it was all because of_ him_.

When her eyes dried out and her exhausted body could not bear to weep for a second longer, Harry crawled onto the stone bench that looked like it was to serve as her bed. She stared hollowly up at ceiling, trying to fight off the suffocating despair that was clawing its way into her mind.

There was so much blood… and she was drowning in it. It coated her skin, caked her hair, and sullied her clothes.

As the images of motionless faces flashed across her vision, Harry frantically rubbed her soaked hands against the rough stone. However, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't wipe a single drop of the sticky liquid away. It was stained in; her very soul was stained crimson.

"Don't bother, girl. It never comes off… _Never_."

Harry jumped a foot in the air as the deep voice, rich with a foreign accent, cut through the thick silence like a hot knife to butter.

Someone… or some_thing_… was sitting in the shadowy corner of the cell.

Harry panicked and was on the verge of shouting for help when a wand, held by a scarred, decaying hand that seemed to have three fingers made of silver, emerged into the dim light.

"Scream and I'll kill you, innocent or not."

Her eyes widened as she recognized his voice. "You're the one from the stands. Who _are_ you? Why have you been following me?"

The wand lowered. "I'm… _a friend_."

Frowning, Harry cautiously climbed off the bed and crouched down into the opposite corner to get as far away from the voice as possible. "I… I doubt it. Friends don't threaten to kill each other, do they?"

The stranger let out a harsh bark of cold laughter. "Your naivety would be heartwarming, had I a heart to thaw. There are _only_ friends and enemies. I hold you no ill will, so I _must_ be the former."

Grimacing, she grabbed the grimy pillow from the stone bench and hugged it to her chest. "I don't care. _Please…_ just leave me alone."

"_No,"_ he breathed silkily. "Not until I get what I want."

"What…_what you_ _want?_" growled Harry incredulously, suddenly feeling furious. "What _more_ can _anyone_ take from me?"

A flood of tumultuous power poured into the cell, causing her head to throb painfully.

When he next spoke, the stranger's words were dripping with malice. _"Don't tempt me, girl._ You have _so_ much that I could strip away from you; simple things that you don't value until they're gone."

Harry sneered. "Oh yeah? Like what? My life? Go ahead… _kill me._ I don't have anything left!"

"Really? You wouldn't mind then if I borrowed your flesh."

The tip of the wand ignited and the opposite corner was thrown into a wash of brilliant light.

Harry clapped her hands over her mouth to keep herself from screaming.

It was a man… yet, it wasn't a man at all.

It was a monster; a mutilated, nightmarish monster.

One of the man's arms and both of his legs were made of the same silvery substance as his substitute fingers. What was left of his skin was waxy and dry, stretching tightly over an emaciated, skeletal frame. Most of the flesh on his upper-torso had been torn away. Harry could see bone, organs, and muscle through the wounds. Even though his ribcage had been totally removed… his body didn't bleed, nor did his insides slide from his chest. His blood flowed over the broken tissue as if the veins and arteries that carried it were still intact.

The worst of the mutilation, however, was on his face. He had one working eye, while the other lay dead in its socket, blackened and crusted over. His jaw hung loose, attached only by a few weak threads of sinewy skin where his cheeks had once been. His teeth were broken and grimy, looking more like jagged fangs than incisors or molars. His tongue, nose, lips, and ears were all missing, leaving only raw, bloodied holes in their absence.

"Terrifying, is it not?" asked the disfigured man, his voice emanating not from the lipless mouth, which remained unmoving, but from the bright tip of the wand he carried. "I never dreamed that the price for my freedom would be so steep. To be confined to a mutilated body that never heals is a nightmare far beyond your comprehension. Be thankful for what you have, girl."

Swallowing the bile that rose in her throat at the sight of the man's insides shifting about, Harry quietly asked, "D-Does it hurt?"

It was strange to hear a full-bellied laugh when the man laughing hadn't moved or shown expression in the slightest. His one electric-blue eye roamed freely in its socket and his breathing remained steady, but apart from that, the man could have been as lifeless as a corpse.

"_It is agony,"_ he said slowly. "Now… do be silent and let me get what I came for."

"What _did_ you come for?" asked Harry with a shudder, tearing her eyes away from his face, unable to stare at it any longer. "And… how did you get in?"

The monstrosity raised its hand, holding up a small pendant. "A portkey of ancient design, forged from Creation magic. No mere ward may prevent its passage. As to my appearance in your cell… _well,_ it's just a little check-up; I thought I'd see how you're coming along. In fact… I think I have all I need. Your pure heart hasn't blackened quite yet… but it's so _very_ close. I can almost _feel_ the stone in my hand!"

Harry gasped as she sensed a tendril of thought rapidly retreating from her mind. His touch was impossibly light; she hadn't felt him at all.

The stranger chuckled dryly. "I must say… I'm impressed that you've lasted even _this_ long. Those that bear the lightning scar so rarely tread within the light, each almost always meeting a rather… _sticky_… end."

Before Harry could ask what he meant, the skeletal man stood and doused his wand.

"Farewell, Harry Potter. You know, you really should be keeping a more watchful eye on the shadows… Nightmares far worse than I are lurking just out of sight."

"_Wait,"_ whispered Harry sharply. "Who _are_ you? What do you want with me?"

The stranger leveled her with his penetrating electric-blue stare, as if he were measuring her worth, and whispered harshly, "I could care _less_ about you, _girl._ You are merely a convenient tool that I shall use to my liking. Apart from that cloak of yours, I would say that you're relatively insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Now… as to my name, I think you shall know me only as… _Nitwit._ Yes… Albus will enjoy that."

The pendant the man was holding blackened, emitting a wash of shadowy light that steadily began to creep up his arm. Within seconds he was nothing more than a floating electric-blue eye, twinkling malevolently in the dim glare from outside the cell.

The eye slowly fluttered shut… and the stranger vanished into the darkness.

Harry sighed in relief as the magic that had been pouring from the man in waves tapered off and the throbbing in her head subsided. Huddling her knees to her chest, she tried to put this new puzzling dilemma out of her already muddled thoughts.

_One thing at a time…_

Closing her eyes and feeling numb, Harry flipped the hourglass and slipped into her memory. The freckled girl sitting beside her on the station bench wasn't nearly as loving and comforting as the real thing, but it was all she was going to get in this dingy cell.

Harry sniffled weakly, brushing her charm bracelet against her cheek.

_I'm never going to see you again, am I?_

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Luna sat down in the soft earth between the twin slabs of stone, one slightly worn down by harsh weather, the other freshly hewn.

It was a beautiful day… such a beautiful day… perfect for plimping. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the sun shone brightly down upon the buttercups that littered the ground, casting a soft yellow glare onto the white marble stones. A gentle breeze blew the dirigible plums back and forth in a mesmerizing display of natural grace.

Trailing her fingers along the names carved into the stones, Luna whispered, "You'll be with me… won't you? Wherever I go?"

A breeze whirled around her, tossing her hair into her eyes. The chill touch of the wind lingered on her cheeks long after the gust had calmed, as if to say…

'_Always.'_

Letting her eyelids droop closed, Luna turned her face towards the sky. As the warm sunshine beat down upon her skin, a tune bounced around in her head much like the light bouncing off the buttercups.

_Ohhh… a plimpy one or two or three…_

A fat raindrop splashed down the side of her cheek. The words spilled past her lips as another droplet followed the first.

"A plimpy I would like to see."

She stuck out her tongue to lap at the little bead of water as it passed by her mouth. The rain tasted far saltier than normal rain...

But she didn't let it bother her.

It was such a beautiful day after all; far too beautiful to let anything spoil it.

_A beautiful day to say goodbye…_

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…

…

"Erm… Luna?"

Her eyes popped open. She must have fallen asleep, for twilight's last whispers were sinking on the horizon. The faintest hint of a fruity aroma, mingling with the plums and bananas, tickled at her nostrils.

"Hello, Ginny," she said softly, recognizing the familiar presence. "It's very nice to see you… I feared the Aurors would feed you to Minister Fudge's private army of Heliopaths. I'm quite glad they didn't. Did they let Harry out as well?"

Ginny didn't answer. She merely stood at the gate, staring sullenly down at her.

Luna waved the thickening silence away before it became too much to bear. "I'm quite alright, Ginevra. Come… join me. Its a beautiful night. There's not much room, but I don't think Mummy will mind if you sit on her."

Ginny sank down beside her. "I don't mean to interrupt. It's just... you've been ignoring my letters. And I… I wanted to talk to you before they get the train up and running. I'm… I'm really…"

Luna patted the girl's knee gently as she trailed off. "Daddy is happy now. He's with Mummy… and they're both with me. There's no need for sad faces."

The redhead closed her eyes and sank back into the tall grass. "I could have done-"

"I don't think so," said Luna mildly, cutting her off. "She's much stronger than you are... and he's much stronger than she is."

Ginny's freckled face scrunched indignantly, before slowly falling into a resigned frown. "I'm so sorry, Luna."

Luna smiled lightly. "Please don't be. They wouldn't want that."

Sighing heavily, Ginny turned away from her and it wasn't until the last trace of sunlight had disappeared behind the tree when the redhead spoke again.

"Luna? You… You don't blame her, do you?"

A flash of green eyes blazed across Luna's vision and an imaginary pair of silky lips pressed light kisses up her neck. She swallowed the moan that bubbled in her throat and slowly shook her head.

"_No..._ I don't. I couldn't even if I wanted to. She's... She's..."

_My Goddess._

Ginny turned back over. "I know Harry would do absolutely anything to change what happened if she could. She knows what it's like."

A heavy raindrop splashed down on Luna's cheek from the cloudless, starry sky. "Yes… she does, doesn't she? We're very much alike now. Perhaps… Perhaps I could live with Harry... if she isn't fed to the Heliopaths, that is."

Ginny fidgeted uncomfortably, before slowly sitting up. "Don't stay here alone again tonight. Come to the Burrow."

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**So that's it for now.**

**The wait for the next will most certainly not be too long. You can rest easy knowing that I already have another 10k words written… I just don't like them yet.**

**Do drop a review.**

Murder!

Intrigue!

Luna!


	22. Chapter 19: Trials and Tribulations

"_Tell me one last thing," said Harry. "Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"_

_"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"_

In the Potterverse, people we think are gone appear to us in our minds... offering help, explanations, and wisdom. The reality of said meetings can be debated to no end... but ultimately... it doesn't matter in the slightest if they were real or imaginary.

**Chapter 19: Trials and Tribulations **

_He could feel them moving there, beyond the walls, almost, like so many chess pieces blown in a dry wind ..._

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_**-DAILY PROPHET EXCLUSIVE-**_

_-By Rita Skeeter-_

_**Harriet Potter: The Girl Who Killed**_

_Long has this reporter been suspect that the Girl Who Lived, conqueror of You-Know-Who at the mere age of one, was not all that she seemed. Surely, a power far beyond our understanding resided within the child that defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named so easily; a power that we at the Daily Prophet were positive would one day lead this world into an era of peace and prosperity._

_How very wrong we were._

_To this reporter's horror, young Harriet Potter, age 13, finally demonstrated the true nature of her hidden powers upon 34 innocent souls in an attack that has thrown our society on its head._

_How has our greatest heroine become so corrupt? Only the past can truly tell. __Curious to know more about the girl's secretive school life, I dove into the underbelly of the whispers that began to circulate after the massacre at Kings Cross._

"_I never saw it coming," says Justin Finch-Fletchley, a classmate of Harriet's who's father, Jason Finch, permanently lost his arm in the attack. "Harry was always warm and kind. I should have known though. We all should have known. She was too good at magic... too good at everything really."_

"_She has a pet snake, you know," reports Cho Chang, fourth year Ravenclaw and one of Potter's rival Seekers in the Hogwarts Quidditch Tournament. "I've seen her whisper to it sometimes. I think she might be a Parselmouth. Everyone saw how enormous the snake was after she saved that Weasley girl from the Chamber of Secrets. It looked a lot like ritual magic to me… which isn't taught in the Hogwarts curriculum."_

_Although further inquiry into the extensive information supply offered by Hogwarts students was blocked by the protective hands of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, the Daily Prophet continues to search for the truth._

_Intrigued by Miss Chang's remarks, this reporter sought out Arthur Weasley, a man who is much like an adoptive father to the Potter girl, for a more personal take on the situation. His express statement of, "No comment," clearly suggested that the Weasley patriarch was truly shocked by such a betrayal from within-_

Ron threw the paper down in disgust, refusing to read another word of the front-page article.

"What a load of _driveling_ bollocks," he spat angrily.

While Hermione, seeing as she still wasn't speaking to him, only nodded her agreement, Seamus snorted derisively from his spot near the fire.

The common room stilled, an apprehensive silence permeating into its every nook and cranny. One could have heard a pin drop. The soft ticking of the grandfather clock sounded as loud as the crack of untrained apparition.

"Got something to say, Finnegan?" growled Ron dangerously, trying to convey with a steely glare that the boy's comments weren't at all welcome.

Seamus' teeth visibly clenched. "_Yeah…_ I've got plenty of things to say about that little cu-"

A bright bolt of yellow light slammed into the side of Seamus' head before he could finish his sentence and a large _furry_ bat began to claw its way out of the boy's nostril.

Her wand out, her eyes blazing with barely-contained fury, Ginny rose from her spot in the far corner and advanced on the frantic, bat-bogeyed boy. Gasps and shouts of warning filled the air as she grabbed a fistful of Seamus' collar and placed the tip of her sparking wand between his wide, fearful eyes.

"Say it," she whispered with a breathy, anguished laugh. "Go on."

Seamus gulped and Ron saw his fingers twitch toward his pocket.

Ginny must've noticed as well, for she dug the wand into Seamus' forehead. "That's _not_ a very good idea."

The sandy-haired boy moaned in pain as the sickly-yellow sparks burned his skin.

"_Ginny,"_ pleaded Dean quietly. "Don't… he's just… _confused_, alright? He lost his mum…"

Ginny scoffed… but released Seamus with a violent shove. "Confused my arse! He knows it wasn't Harry's fault! She would _never_… He just wants someone to blame!"

She canceled the hex and stomped away up the girl's staircase without another word.

Ron frowned at her retreating back. He could tell that she was losing it bit by bit. The slander in the papers, the constant whisperings behind her back, the blind accusations to her face that she was somehow involved... anymore of it and his little sister was going to snap completely.

Life gradually flooded back into the common room. As the tittering whispers broke out all around them, Hermione stood and she too vanished up the girl's staircase, most likely to check on Ginny, leaving Ron alone with his Ancient Runes homework. Why he had ever let Harry convince him into taking the most difficult subject Hogwarts had to offer, he didn't know. With a gleaming smile, a light punch in the arm, and the reassurance that she would essentially let him copy her notes… he had agreed.

_Bloody smile… Bloody arm punch..._

He stared blankly down at the symbols he was supposed to be translating. None of it made the least bit of sense. Even though Hermione had finished the assignment with little difficulty, Ron didn't dare ask for her help; he simply couldn't… not after… _that_.

**/FLASHBACK/**

The bushy-haired girl burst out of the house and ran full-tilt into the steady downpour that had started to fall as Harry slept.

She bolted down the road to the village and long as his legs were, Ron _still_ had quite a bit of trouble keeping up with her.

"Mione! _Stop!_"

She didn't slow… but through the pounding thrum of water all around him, he heard her sob.

"_Mione!" _yelled Ron, feeling confused. He put on a burst of speed in the hopes that he could latch a hand onto the back of her shirt._ "Please,_ wait!"

As soon as his fist caught the fabric, however, Hermione wailed, whirled around in mid-stride, and slapped him with all her might.

"LET GO, YOU _STUPID_ GIT!"

He staggered sideways and lost his grip, tumbling to the muddy ground with a _squelch_ as she ran off into the curtain of water.

Clutching his stinging face, Ron screamed after her blurred silhouette, "WHAT DID I _BLOODY_ DO _THIS_ TIME? _HERMIONE?_"

She disappeared over the distant hill.

Groaning, he pushed himself out of the mud and slowly trailed after her. He had no idea where she was going or why she was so upset… but he was going to find her.

He was going to find her and… do… and do…

_And do… what, exactly?_

"Something," he mumbled aloud, hunching his shoulders to protect his neck from the icy rain. "I'll do… something."

The brick-built village of Ottery St. Catchpole loomed into view as he came around the bend that encircled the Lovegoods' tower. It looked utterly depressing in the poor weather. He didn't really understand why, but his gut feeling told him that she was down there… _somewhere_.

Ron trudged along the winding path, keeping his eyes squinted for some little sign of her. He scoured the little town from top to bottom, checking in and out of the shops and their alleyways, but he couldn't find her anywhere. And yet… Ron _knew_ that she was watching him; he knew that she saw him clear as day even though he couldn't see _her_. Collapsing on a bench in the middle of the village square, Ron shouted above the din from the heavily falling rain.

"I'm _tired_ of this, Mione! I know you're here! Just come out and _talk_ to me!"

"_You're_ tired?" echoed her incredulous sing-song voice from somewhere off to the left. "_I'm_ tired, Ron! I'm angry, and I'm wet, and I'm so _bloody_ tired."

Ron stood and followed her voice towards the corner pub. "Then… lets go back already!"

"That's not what I mean!"

He turned the corner… and found her at last.

Hermione looked soaked to the bone. She was slumped against the pub's brick wall with her face turned skywards. Her eyes, puffy from wetness of their own, were shut tight against the droplets that splashed over her smooth, lightly-tanned skin. Her damp curls hung limply around her shoulders in a flowing, dripping halo.

Ron's heart flipped. She was like… a water-logged angel.

"What _do_ you mean, then?"

Her cherry-red lips twitched upwards. "Even with the teeth and the running, you still haven't realized it? Are you _really_ this dense, Ronald?"

Ron took the insult with a grain of salt and shrugged, sidling up next to her against the brick. "Reckon so. Yeah."

Hermione pushed herself off the wall. "I'm tired of wanting to give Harry her chance. I'm… I'm tired of waiting for you to decide."

As she began to walk away, Ron grabbed her wrist and gently tugged her back. "Wait, Mione. I don't… I don't understand."

Hermione laughed. "I know you don't, Ron. It's alright. Let's go back."

Ron shook his head and placed his arms against the wall on either side of her, preventing her escape. "Just… wait."

Her breath hitched visibly and a budding, rosy blush appeared on her cheeks. "I don't want to wait. Let me go."

"Mione," he pleaded, shielding her body from the stinging rain drops. "I hate this. I hate when you're… I just don't like it when you're actually angry with me."

Her hand rose to touch lightly against his cheek. "And I don't like _being_ angry with you."

Ron bowed his head in confusion. "Then just… explain it to me. Please?"

Hermione's heavy, resigned sigh tickled his forehead. "Isn't it obvious? Harry and I… we've agreed that we'd wait for _you_ to choose one of us. I'm so _tired_ of waiting, Ron; so tired of being fair; so tired of pretending I don't want you so much."

It took a long moment for his brain to process the words, but when they finally _clicked_… all intelligent thought in his head ground to a screeching halt.

Hermione tilted his chin upwards with a finger so that their lips were mere inches apart.

To his eyes, she had never looked more beautiful than she did now. Her cheeks were flushed a brilliant shade of red. Her lips were settled in a natural pout. Her dark, chocolaty eyes were swimming with… _desire_.

Ron gulped nervously. He had only ever seen her looking like this in his naughtier dreams. His fantasy had suddenly become reality.

She ran her fingertips down his abdomen, leaving a trail of fire in their wake that sent shivers all along his spine.

"Mione, I-"

"Choose me," she breathed huskily, cutting him off. "_Please_… choose me. I know it's petty to say, but I love you more than she does! I know it in my heart… God help me, I do!"

Ron's hand slipped from the wet stone in his surprise, but before he lost his balance, the bushy-haired girl caught his arm and entwined their fingers.

"Kiss me, Ron… _please_. Choose me."

His heart was thudding away in his chest at an incredible rate, matching pace with the beating of the rain. His mind told him that _this_, Hermione wanting him in the same way he wanted _her_, couldn't possibly be happening. Reaching out, he brushed his fingers against her small, rounded chin. "I… but what about-"

"Forget Harry," Hermione whispered, her _very_ noticeable chest heaving tantalizingly against his arm. "For just one minute, forget about her… _and kiss me._"

His head felt like it was spinning rapidly about on his shoulders. Everything finally made sense: the way the two of them always stared at him expectantly when asking him to choose between something that Hermione liked or something Harry liked, or the way they always made it a point to show him that they were wearing new make-up, or to show him that they had done their hair differently.

It... was ridiculous.

Harry was ridiculous.

Hermione was ridiculous.

_Girls_ were ridiculous.

It was ridiculous that he was always chasing after them when they got upset. It was ridiculous that they'd made this stupid agreement to make him _choose_ between them. He didn't _want_ to choose between them. If he kissed Hermione now… he'd lose Harry… and vice-versa. Either way… he'd lose a best friend; lose a girl he loved.

As much as Ron wanted to finally lean in and capture her perfect lips with his, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Ever so slowly, he shook his head. "I'm… sorry, Mione. I want to… I do… but…"

Hermione's eyes darkened. "I knew it… I _knew_ you'd choose her."

"No, I'm not _choosing_ anyone! I don't want to lose either of you!"

"That's utterly selfish… Get off me, Ron."

Ron touched his forehead to hers, breathing her in. "Just wait a mo' and listen to-"

"_NO!_ NO MORE WAITING! YOU'RE SUCH A STUPID _PRAT!_"

She shoved him angrily away from her and stomped off in the direction of the Burrow.

**/END/**

No… there was no way on earth that Hermione was going to help him with his homework, let alone speak to him. It was a bit ironic really. He hadn't wanted to lose either of his friends, but had ended up losing them both anyway; Hermione to his own stupidity, Harry to a Ministry holding-cell. If life hadn't been dealing them such shite playing cards for the past year, Ron might have thought it funny.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

He closed his eyes and leaned back into his armchair, regret and longing sweeping over him. He wanted her now more than ever. Her flushed face filled his dreams every night, begging him to… do more than just kiss her. He could picture her bushy, downy-soft hair splayed about his pillow as if they were up in his four-poster right at this very moment. But then… Harry would always appear at the best part of those dreams, crying, looking at him as if he himself had just murdered her parents. She would run and he would chase after her, just like always. When he finally caught her, she would collapse into his arms. She would trail her full lips along his chest… down… down…

Blood began to rush to his lower body and Ron jolted back to the present, his cheeks heating furiously as he readjusted his pants in the middle of the common room.

_Merlin… Get a hold of yourself, mate. Focus. Runes… Runes… Hermione… _

_No! _

_Runes…_

0000

0000

0000

0000

Harry raised a hand to shield her eyes as the door to her cell clanked and swung inward.

Standing in the bright light was the grizzly-haired Auror. Even though he was glaring at her with ferocity, the man was still a welcome sight. It had been weeks … maybe months... since she had last seen another living being. The door had not been opened since she had been imprisoned. Facilities would pop into existence whenever she needed to use the toilet and tasteless meals would appear by magic whenever she became desperately hungry. To say that her sense of night and day had been lost was an understatement; her stay in the cell was a continuous blur.

"Get up, Potter," he growled. "It's time."

'T-Time?" croaked Harry weakly, her voice broken from disuse. "Time for what?"

The Auror thumbed his wand threateningly. "I _said _get up. Or… would you like me to _help_ you?"

Wincing, Harry shook her head and slowly stood. She was entirely used to the look he was giving her… like she was dirt on his shoe. It was mildly upsetting, however, to see it on the face of a complete stranger.

The man flicked his wand and shackles of light snapped around her wrists, binding her hands tightly behind her back.

"Walk."

Harry stepped into the brightly-lit stone corridor, blinking rapidly. "Where are we going?"

The man's golden-eyes narrowed dangerously.

Getting the idea that he was going to curse her if she said another word, Harry turned and marched down the hall.

The fierce Auror steered her with his wand and his words, never letting her once fall behind him.

Eventually, they came to a halt in front of a large door with a placard that read:

**Courtroom Ten**

Harry reeled. She hadn't been expecting a trial… not after…

The Auror opened the door with his wand and pushed her inside.

The first thing she noticed was the sea of stony faced, crimson-clad witches and wizards sitting in rows and rows of elevated benches around the perimeter of the circular chamber.

_The Wizengamot…_

Their stares bore into her from all sides. From the disapproving looks she gleamed in several pairs of eyes, Harry got the distinct impression that a large number of her jurors had already decided upon a verdict.

The second thing she noticed was a small wooden chair that sat in the center of the room, bolted to the floor. An ominous feeling swept over her as she gazed upon the rusted chains hanging from the chair's arms.

Harry's shackles sprang apart and a rather sharp looking woman sitting at a tall podium in the midst of the Wizengamot gestured for her to take a seat. The Auror dug his wand into the small of her back when she failed to move.

As soon as her hands touched the wood, the chains sprang to life, winding their way up her arms like coiling snakes.

"Harriet Lily Potter," said the stern woman offcially, reading from a document on her podium. "You have been brought before us today to stand trial for your crimes on September One of the current year. You are hereby formally charged with twenty-five counts of murder in the first degree, nine counts of assault with deadly intent, and one count of the destruction of Ministry property. How do you plead to these charges, Miss Potter?"

Harry opened her mouth… but words failed her.

"How do you _plead,_ Miss Potter?" The woman eyed her strangely. It was almost… _coaxing_.

"I… I don't… wait-"

"Let the record show that Miss Potter has _declined_ to address her charges," said the woman quickly, gesturing to an ancient looking wizard that was rapidly scribbling on a piece of parchment. "After testimony is heard, she will be asked for her statement once more."

For a split second, Harry could have sworn that the woman had sent her a reassuring smile.

A small, wispy man that was sitting next to the podium stood, cleared his throat, and opened an official-looking ledger. "Miss Potter, as your crimes include the murders of some eleven Aurors, as well as seven members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol, your right to a traditional defense has been terminated. We will determine your guilt by personal testimony whilst under the influence of both Veritaserum and Legilimency. It has been made known to this committee that you are well-versed in the art of Occlumency. Should we deem that you have resisted these methods of interrogation in any way, you shall be found guilty of all charges and have your soul removed from your body by way of a Dementor's Kiss. It is in your best interests to be entirely truthful. Do you understand the proceedings forthwith?"

"M-My _soul?_" stuttered Harry, horrified. "But... no!"

The woman nodded curtly, her eyes not leaving the documents upon her podium. "Yes, Miss Potter. The severity of your crime has warranted your instant termination should you be found guilty. An example must be made of those willing to kill Aurors, our protectors of peace and prosperity."

Harry had been doing an excellent job of containing her panic right up until that moment. "Please!" she shouted anxiously. "It wasn't me! He took over! It was Voldemort!"

Murmurs and incredulous whispers erupted from all around her.

The stern woman stared pensively at Harry, before gesturing with her quill. "Auror Scrimgeour, the Veriteserum, if you will? Mr. Vane, please begin."

An explosion of pain erupted behind Harry's eyes; it was like a razor-sharp knife digging into her brain. As her screams filled the air, she was only vaguely aware that a large hand was grasping her chin and pouring a copious amount of liquid down her throat.

"Far less intense, Mr. Vane! A testimony cannot be obtained while the defendant is incapacitated."

The pain slowly died, diminishing to a dull, stinging sensation in her temples. She followed the mental tendril attached to the razor-tipped probe back to a thin, balding man sitting in the front row of benches. He was glaring at her malevolently, like she had done him some great personal harm.

Harry closed her eyes and leaned back into the uncomfortable chair, wishing desperately that she was elsewhere.

"Miss Potter, you say that you are not responsible for your crimes," said the spokeswoman slowly. "You tell us that your crimes were committed by You-Know-Who, a wizard defeated by your own hand twelve years hence. You believde him to be controlling you, is that right?"

"No," said Harry simply, even though she had wanted to say yes. "He _is_ me."

A blinding stab of pain tore through her mind.

"Mr. Vane! Cease your violent ministrations or you shall be removed from this court!"

Gasping, Harry slumped forward as the spite-laced probe intensified for a split-second… and then, thankfully, withdrew.

"Now… Miss Potter… when you say He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is _yourself_, what exactly do you mean?"

"I d-don't know," panted Harry, trying to regain her faculties. "It was me… but it was _him_. He's just… there. Whenever I lose consciousness without protecting my mind first, he's able to take control. Please… it was those things… those _creatures!_ I… I feinted… and he got out!"

"_Lies,"_ spat Mr. Vane, standing up and shaking his fist. "She's lying!"

The woman cast the man a sidelong glance. "The _truth_ please, Miss Potter."

"I'm not lying!" Harry cried, glaring fiercely at Mr. Vane. "He _knows_ I'm telling the truth!"

"She's resisting me; resisting the Veritaserum," growled the man, squinting his eyes as if he were in pain. "She killed them all… she's laughing at us!"

Angry jeers erupted from the members of the Wizengamot.

"No!" yelled Harry. "I'm not!"

Another vindictive stab of biting, blinding pain coursed through her.

"Mr. Vane! I will not have such abuse in my courtroom! It is _obvious_ that your tenure as a fair and just Court Legilimens has come to end! Remove him immediately!"

The ungodly pain left her as Mr. Vane was dragged from the room by Auror Scrimgeour.

The man's anguished shouts of, "SHE KILLED MY WIFE! SHE'LL KILL US ALL!" could be heard echoing all the way down the corridor.

The sharp-looking woman sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Very well… _Very well_. Miss Potter, this court has heard your testimony under the influence of both Legilimency and Veritaserum. We will deliver fair judgment for your sentence by a majority vote. I do caution all members of this court to remember that this child, a _renowned_ champion of the light, is merely thirteen years of age and that the testimony given, while perhaps unlikely in nature, aptly explains the _truly_ masterful use of magic that Miss Potter demonstrated against more than twenty fully-grown, fully trained witches and wizards. I caution all to remember that while in this courtroom, we must not follow the path that Mr. Vane chose in his search for justice. We must let go of our own _personal_ anger and judge the situation with rationality and objectivity. That being said… let us vote. All in favor of clearing charges?"

Harry saw ten hands…

Twenty hands…

Thirty…

Forty…

Fifty…

But…

The woman at the podium, her own hand raised high, sighed once more. "And… all in favor of conviction?"

A jumble of hands too numerous for Harry to count rose as one.

"_No…_" she moaned hopelessly as a large portion of her jury began to clap in appreciation. "I'm _sorry_… I didn't… I-"

"Harriet Lily Potter," said the woman at the podium, gazing down at her sadly. "For your crimes against the Wizarding state of Great Britain, you are hereby found guilty of all charges for which you have been accused and have been sentenced to receive the Dementor's Kiss. May God have mercy on your soul and deliver you unto peace."

Harry heard the door behind her slide open.

A long, rattling breath caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.

Despair poured into her as she heard the monstrosity's flowing cloak sweeping across the stone floor.

Harry squirmed violently in the chair as the chains encircling her arms frosted with ice. The cold bit into her skin… just as it had back at the platform.

Her head began to pound in tandem with her frantically beating heart.

Once more, she felt her body freezing-over, sinking into the black abyss.

There was a flash of green light.

A scream.

Shadowy tendrils wrapped around her body, binding her tight, pulling her down, suffocating her.

Harry's vision blurred, tinting red. She could see beyond the floor, beyond the walls, and beyond the sea of judging eyes. It was as if the world had fallen away, replaced by the dark… and the damp… and cherry red-hair, matted with blood.

She could hear his laughter; heard it as if it were her own.

_No… please… help… Ron… Ginny… help me…_

She could feel him seeping through the seams. He was… _clawing_… his way into her head, tearing apart everything that she was. His touch enveloped all that she loved, turning that love to hate. Her eyes burned with fire; burned with crimson magic that wasn't her own.

And then, everything… _stopped._

Silence fell.

The cold lessened.

The most beautiful song she had ever heard erupted inside of her eardrums. It washed away her panic, leaving in its place a roaring inferno of peace and serenity.

_That's... That's phoenix song…_

The crimson fire in her eyes was doused in a flood of twinkling, silver light. She could feel the light draining through the cracks… pushing him back.

A soft hand fell to her shoulder and a shimmering blue ocean of familiar magic flowed into her mind. The ocean cradled her, rocking her softly in its pulsing rhythms as it carried her back to the surface.

When Harry finally felt like she was back in her body, she slowly raised her head, smiling tearfully up at his kind, bearded face. "_Thank you, _sir_. _A million times… _thank you_."

Professor Dumbledore squeezed her shoulder compassionately. "No thanks is needed, Harry. I shall always attempt to come to your aid if I am able. Think of it as repentance for the many wrongs in your life for which I am directly responsible… and they _are_ many."

Harry let out a deep shuddering breath of relief.

She was safe.

The Headmaster conjured a purple armchair directly next to Harry's chained one and casually sat, as if intruding upon trials and halting death sentences was nothing out of the ordinary.

The woman residing over the trial leaned forward and addressed Professor Dumbledore with a wide smile on her face. "Good afternoon, Albus. I was told that you were unavailable for today's proceedings."

The Headmaster chuckled benignly. "And a good afternoon to you as well, Amelia. Curious, is it not, that the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, whom holds solitary veto power over majority rule, was _misinformed_ of the trial's date? It is a most fortunate event that I received a letter alerting me to such a _grave_ clerical error."

The woman nodded. "Fortunate indeed. I take it that you _do_ wish to overturn the vote and schedule an appeal?"

"I do… and… since we're all here, I think it a _fine_ time to hold said appeal."

"On what charge?" someone behind Harry said angrily. "You have no ri-"

"I have _every_ right, Cornelius," interrupted Dumbledore calmly. "The Chief Warlock may at any point call for a reevaluation of the defendant's testimony based upon the appearance of new evidence or upon proving that the grounds for prosecution have no basis."

"New evidence?" cried the voice. "_What_ new evidence?"

Professor Dumbledore gestured towards the door. "I speak of course of the Dementor's effect on Miss Potter to which the members of this court have just directly born witness. A change in eye color is the first and foremost sign that an individual who lacks metamorph ability is being possessed. In Article five of the Precepts for Prosecution, sub-section 'P' not-so-subtly states that any individual possessed by another magical being is not responsible for the actions he or she is made to commit. Several eyewitness statements indicate that Miss Potter's eyes were indeed red throughout the duration of the attack. Luckily, I had the foresight to subpoena said documents."

Dumbledore flicked his wand and sent a handful of scrolls soaring onto the podium before continuing. "It is my belief that a remnant of Lord Voldemort passed into Harry during the attack on her family twelve years ago. Harry and I are both actively aware of her situation and we have done all that we can to suppress that remnant in order to let her lead a normal life. I sincerely hope that this court would not condemn an innocent child to a fate worse than death simply because she is the victim of terrible circumstance. Sole blame for the tragedy that occurred at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters rests with the Dark Lord, with those that gave the order to station Dementors at the platform after receiving express advice that it would be _most_ unwise to do so, and, of course, with old fools like myself that are naive enough to believe their advice would be heeded."

The ancient court scribe squeaked with excitement and began to scribble faster than ever.

"How dare you suggest that the _Ministry_ is-"

"I am not pointing fingers, Cornelius," said Dumbledore coolly, smiling at Harry as he did so. "I am merely stating that Miss Potter is not at fault and that the grounds for this trial are nonexistent. As Chief Warlock, I put forth a motion to have all charges dropped on the condition that Miss Potter will spend the next month mastering the Patronus charm, which I have faith that she will do so admirably. All in favor?

The hands rose slowly... hesitantly... but eventually, nearly every witch and wizard that Harry could see had voted in her favor.

As polite applause broke out once more, the woman at the podium cleared her throat. "Harriet Lily Potter, you are hereby cleared of all charges brought before you. Thank you for your time and cooperation in the pursuit of justice. I trust Albus to see you out."

The chains around her arms fell away and Professor Dumbledore helped her out of the chair. "Let us return to Hogwarts, Harry. Your friends will be most relieved to see you… as will a very excitable dog."

Harry's eyes widened. "Do you mean… _Snuffles?_"

The Headmaster placed a finger to his lips and winked.

Even though she hadn't been able to control herself on the platform, she couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt as she was led out of the Ministry and into the excessively bright sunshine. A part of her, however small, thought she had rightly deserved the punishment from which she had just escaped.

It must have shown on her face, because Professor Dumbledore patted her shoulder consolingly. "I did mean what I said Harry… you are not at fault. Yet, knowing you as well as I like to think that I do, I am sure you will continue to blame yourself for your actions while under Voldemort's control. Throughout my many years, I have found that while it is best not to look at one's past in search of fault, sometimes it is _especially_ difficult to refrain from doing so."

Professor Dumbledore took her by the hand and turned on the spot.

When Harry opened her eyes after the disorienting sensation of apparition had left her, she looked questioningly up at the old wizard.

"Diagon Ally, sir?"

He smiled warmly back at her. "During those times, I have found that the only solution to such feelings of guilt lies in a trip to Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlor. Come… we have much to discuss and I'm rather in the mood for a banana-split."

Harry grinned.

Professor Dumbledore led her to the shop and proceeded to encourage her to order the largest, most exorbitant ice-cream on the menu.

They found a nice, secluded spot and sat.

Harry moaned blissfully as she took a bite of her rather enormous strawberry sundae. The flavor sent waves of tingling pleasure up and down her body. It had been so long since she had tasted anything.

_Far too long…_

She had a feeling that she wasn't going to like the answer to the question that popped into her mind. "Professor… how… how _long_ has it been? I… lost track of time, I suppose. It felt a bit like a few weeks."

The Headmaster sighed unhappily. "I believe that today… is the twenty-ninth of November, Harry."

Her spoon clattered into the bowl. "Th-Three _months?_"

"I'm quite sorry, Harry. You must understand... I did everything in my power to free you from your cell, but the Minister would have none of it. It was my efforts, I think, that prompted your farce of a trial in the first place. Cornelius was perfectly happy to keep you locked away for the rest of your life."

Harry sank into the chair, feeling miserable. "But… _why?_"

"I don't know exactly, but I assume it has much to do with your request to see Sirius. Even though he has escaped, Sirius is still listed as a prisoner of Azkaban and as long as you remained a living, free citizen, that request stayed on the Ministry's record, garnering rumors about your Godfather's innocence. Alas… _paperwork_… it shall be the end of us all."

Harry stirred her now slightly soupy ice-cream absentmindedly. "I don't understand."

Dumbledore gestured with his spoon, splattering his beard with banana. "Money, fame, and power can corrupt the very best of us. Cornelius Fudge is a good man at heart, Harry, but he is most blinded by his material gains. He grew up with nothing, you see. Now that he is Minister, he is most desperate to hold on to all three. If Sirius were to be found innocent, the Minister's popularity would plummet and he would likely lose his reelection. Thus, I believe that Cornelius sees _you_ as a direct threat to his power. He saw the attack as a prime opportunity to both discredit your good name while simultaneously burying your request in the records by keeping you locked up. I did my very best to pressure him into releasing you, Harry. I believe that, eventually, Cornelius had enough of my pestering and scheduled your trial without my knowledge. It is likely that he bribed the court Legilimens to lie. Mr. Vane, whose wife was the first to die in the attack, was presumably only too happy to do so. It truly was fortunate that I received Amelia Bones' timely letter informing me of the situation."

Harry stared blankly at the wall. She really couldn't hold Mr. Vane's rage against him, not when she could remember his wife so clearly; the first who had fallen under her wand. She had dark hair, a kind smile, and had been hugging her daughter goodbye.

"Sir?" she asked morosely. "W-Who else died? I… I need to know."

Dumbledore leveled her with his signature, piercing gaze. "Are you _quite_ sure you wish to be privy to such information, Harry? It will likely be much more painful to see than you realize."

Harry nodded hesitantly and the Headmaster withdrew a copy of the Daily Prophet from his robes. Spread across the front page was a large picture of herself. She was dancing through spellfire, rapidly firing her own curses and laughing madly as she did so.

To see him using her body like a puppet was more than she could bear. She quickly folded the paper over and searched through the article for…

Harry's heart plummeted as five last names that she recognized stuck out of the obituary like sore thumbs.

Zachariah **Zabini**.

Amos **Diggory**.

Maria **Boot**.

Sarah **Finnegan**.

Xenophilius **Lovegood**.

"_Oh no_… are those… Luna… Seamus?"

Professor Dumbledore reached over and removed the paper from her hands. "I'm afraid so, Harry. Your life is going to become increasingly difficult from this point onwards, for the Minister has done an _excellent_ job of turning you into a villain. It will likely be some time yet before the truth of today's events is leaked to the public and your name is fully cleared. Until that time… and even perhaps _after_ that time… you must bear the ridicule and anger from your peers with dignity or you shall seem all the more guilty. It is of the utmost importance that you treat those who are grieving with kindness and understanding or their resentment will continue to grow until it becomes an unstoppable force. I know that this may seem like a difficult task, Harry, but I have the utmost faith in you."

Harry nodded, feeling numb. "I'll try, sir."

Dumbledore patted her hand lightly. "Don't lose hope, my dear. A brighter day looms in the distance. We must simply bugger on until we reach it."

She managed to give him a weak smile.

"Now… are you ready to return to Hogwarts? We don't want to make Snuffles wait _too_ long for news, now do we?"

"There's just one more thing, sir," said Harry. "A man came to visit me in my cell. He… He called himself _Nitwit_ and said that you'd… sir? What's wrong?"

Dumbledore had gone as white as a sheet. "Nitwit, you say? I see… Well, I'll need to view your memory of this meeting directly, Harry. Do relax."

She flinched as the Headmaster began to rifle through her memory of the horrifying man. She had thus far managed to suppress the image of the skeletal, decaying face.

When Dumbledore finally withdrew, Harry thought he looked a bit… sad.

"Sir, is everything alright?"

"What? Ah…yes… yes, of course. I was simply reminiscing of better days. You need not worry about this man for the time being. He means you no harm. Let us return to school, Harry. I don't think I could continue calling myself a 'purveyor of truth and love' if I kept you from Miss Weasley for a moment longer."

At the Headmaster's suggestive wink, Harry felt her cheeks burn and she knew instantly that she had turned a violent shade of pink.

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"Where are we _going_," asked Ginny conspiratorially as the black-haired girl pulled her through the dark corridors. "We're going to get caught."

"Don't be such a twonk," said Harry with a laugh. "I want to show you something."

"At three o'clock in the morning?"

Harry ignored her and continued to tug at her hand.

They turned the corner… and Ginny stopped dead in her tracks. There was no way she was taking another step down this hallway.

The bloody letters on the wall gleamed in the moonlight as if they had just been freshly painted. The door stood wide open and through it, she could clearly see the body-sized hole in the wall.

Harry tugged at her hand. "Come on."

"_No,"_ Ginny moaned weakly. "I don't want to! What could you possibly have to show me in there?"

"Come _on_… It'll only be for a minute. I thought you loved me…"

"Wh-What?" stuttered Ginny. _"I do!"_

Harry turned and slipped her arms around Ginny's waist. She leaned in, pressed a soft kiss on her jaw, and whispered sultrily, "I thought you'd do _anything_ for me."

Ginny closed her eyes as the girl's lips trailed along her neck, nipping lightly at her skin. "What are you doing? I'm not… you said you wouldn't… oh my…"

Harry's tongue rolled over Ginny's earlobe. "I'm taking what I want. I know you want this too, you naughty little slag."

"Harry," pleaded Ginny, panting into the girl's silky, raven locks. Her knees buckled as fingers slid into the back of her knickers. "_Stop_. You promised you-"

"_Harry?"_ said her friend, giggling nastily. "I'm not Harry."

White-hot knives pierced Ginny's flesh where the girl's calloused hands had just been. They cut deep, slicing right down to the bone.

Ginny screamed in agony, her eyes popping open in terror.

Menacing twin orbs of glowing red gazed back at her from Harry's grinning face.

Pulling Ginny with her and cackling madly, the black-haired girl rose into the air. They flew through the open door of the second-floor bathroom, barreling into the pipe that led down to the dark chamber.

…

Ginny awoke with a jolt, sitting up so quickly in bed that she thought her brain might have smacked against the back of her skull.

_Blimey… that was…_

Groaning, she threw back the covers and made her way to the window for a bit of fresh air. Never again was she going to take a sleeping potion unless it was of the Dreamless variety. Stress had been keeping her awake at night and she had gone to Madame Pomfrey for a solution. In hindsight, that had been a _very_ poor choice. For three nights now under the potion's influence, her dreams and nightmares had been entirely _more_ than vivid. It was like they were real. She could still feel a tingling sting from where Harry's… _Tom's_… hands had just pierced her skin.

Ginny unlatched the window and pushed it open, breathing in deep, calming gulps of the early-morning mist. She knew deep down that the only real solution to her sleeping problems was to have Harry back in her arms once more. For whatever reason, sleep was just that much more difficult to come by without her.

Alice hummed a low, mournful note as Ginny shut the window.

"Yeah," she hissed softly, rubbing the little snake's chin. "Me too."

Instead of pulling on her own clothes as she readied for the day, she donned Harry's yet again. She didn't really know why she had been doing this for the past two months, but there was just something comforting about wearing the girl's attire. Perhaps it was because the shirts still smelled vaguely like her hair; like pine and hazelnut. Or perhaps it was because whenever she walked through the halls with an H emblazoned across her chest instead of a G, she garnered plenty of nasty glares. It was like she was proudly reminding the world that there was still one person who loved Harry; still one person who hadn't moved on. Sure, she had been cursed once or twice in the hallways, but someone had to openly stand on Harry's side. Even if she never saw her best friend again, Ginny had decided a long time ago that that someone was going to be her.

Ron and Hermione were both awake and dressed for their Hogsmeade weekend by the time she descended from the girl's staircase.

Her brother pulled her into a one-armed hug as she plopped down beside him on the common room's couch. "I thought I told you to stop wearing that."

Ginny shrugged his hand off angrily. "And I thought I told you to mind your own _bloody_ business!"

Ron sighed exasperatedly. "Ginny… _please._ Every single time you wear her jumper, you end up in the hospital wing with tubers coming out of your ears. You don't know how many times I've had to threaten Zabini with death if he laid a finger on you."

"I can handle myself, Ron."

"I know you can… when your back isn't turned the other way! Look… I miss her too, Gin, but you're just being reckless. Besides, do you really think Harry wants you messing up all her clothes? That's the only Weasley jumper she has, you know."

Ginny clenched her fists and stood up. "At least I'm _doing_ something! Look at the two of you! Going off to Hogsmeade! You and Hermione… you just… you just… _pretend she doesn't exist!_"

Ron's ears went pink. "I think about her every damn day! She's my best bloody mate and don't you forget it! But… I'm probably never going to see her again, Ginny, and it hurts too damn much to hope that I will! It's been three months and we haven't heard a _single_ word! If she hasn't been _kissed_, then she's locked away in some godforsaken-"

Ron abruptly stopped speaking as her sparking wandtip met the end of his nose.

"_Ginny!"_ gasped Hermione, horrified, quickly stepping between them and slapping the shaft of wood away. "Get a hold of yourself! First Seamus, now _Ron?_ You're _completely_ out of control!"

Ginny's mouth fell open. "I'M OUT OF… Piss _off,_ Hermione! I _know_ you're happy that she's gone! Now you have Ron all to yourself!"

The bushy-haired girl bristled with anger, sputtering indignantly. "H-How _dare_ you! How dare you even _think_…"

A decorative glass on the fireplace mantle exploded.

Ron, blushing slightly, grabbed the girl's hand and squeezed it.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Hermione gestured towards the portrait hole. "Get out of here, Ginny. Go find someplace to cool down."

"Make me!" Ginny snarled.

Hermione's wand was out faster than she could blink.

"Don't you _tempt_ me, Ginevra Weasley. I know you miss her; I _know_ it's eating at your heart. Right now, we're all on edge and you're _not_ yourself. _So…_ leave peacefully and don't come back until you're calm… or I _will_ make you."

Her hands shaking with rage, Ginny pocketed her wand and stormed out of the portrait hole. She ran blindly through the castle, not knowing where she was going, just looking for somewhere… _anywhere_… to get away.

They didn't understand. They'd _never_ understand… not when they still had each other.

As Ginny hurtled, unseeing, through the stacks of the Library, her legs suddenly gave way from beneath her and she fell. Sliding painfully across the marble floor, she slammed into what felt like the edge of a bookcase. The sharp pain broke the haze of rage that muddled her thoughts. She curled up, burying her face in her hands as a broken sob escaped from her throat.

It felt like she was back in the chamber, alone in the dark and losing her mind.

_I miss you…_

_I miss you so much._

_Please come back._

_I can't do this without you._

"_Well…_ this is unsightly. I didn't know weasels could cry."

Ginny sat up, rubbing fiercely at her wet eyes. She glared at the owner of the drawling voice. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

The blonde boy sauntered forward from the shadowy enclave in which he stood. "I don't think there's enough time in the world to describe everything that I want… but right now, I want you to come with me. If you value your life, you'll do it without asking stupid questions. That might be too much to hope for though, seeing as you share a bloodline with Weaselby."

Ginny sniffled, wiping away the last of her tears. "What are you talking about?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm talking about the hit-wizard that Zabini hired, using the last of his money, to quietly take you out the first time Dumbledore vacated the castle. I suspect he's making his way up from the dungeons as we speak."

"_W-What?"_

"Don't look so surprised," said the blonde, pulling a book off the shelf and lazily thumbing through its pages with an air of disinterest. "Blaise comes from a poorer pureblood family. His gypsy mother can't get a well-paying job in the Ministry and he has four little sisters. Harry killed his father, cutting off the money-flow and essentially ruining his life. Bloke's out for revenge, simple as that. Since he can't get at Potter, he's taking a shot at the person she cares about most. Tit for tat, you see."

Ginny's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're lying."

Draco chuckled softly. "Am I? _Really?_ Then by all means, _continue_ to blubber all over these bookshelves. They have a bit of your hair, you see. I suspect the assassin will be able to track you here in say… two minutes?"

Ginny stared hard at his unblinking, deadly-serious expression. It made sense in a twisted, _Slytherin_ sort of way. She wouldn't put it past an angry Blaise Zabini to have someone killed. "Even… Even if I believe you, how are _you_ going to help me? You said a hit-wizard didn't you? I'd like to see you try and stand up to one of them."

Draco tossed the book aside. "I don't intend to fight him. I intend to take you somewhere where you can hide until Dumbledore returns from wherever it is that he's gone off to. Now… the clock is ticking. I'd say you have roughly a minute left."

Ginny looked nervously over her shoulder. "W-Why should I trust you, Malfoy? You're a despicable _git._"

The blonde's sneer vanished completely and he sent her a short pleading look. "Because… I love her… and I know she loves you. It'll destroy her if she finds out that you're dead. She'll go after Zabini… and… eventually… she'd come after me. I happen to like living quite a bit. Thirty seconds, Weasley."

Ginny bit her lip. "Alright! Alright! Fine! What do we do?"

Draco reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He waved his wand over his fist and whispered, _"Engorgio."_

Malfoy's Nimbus Two-Thousand and One exploded into its full size.

"Get on," he said hurriedly, straddling the broom and sending a quick 'Expulso' into the window at the end of the stack.

Just as Ginny threw her leg over the Nimbus, a bolt of green light whizzed by her ear and careened into the marble bust of an owlish looking wizard.

Their screams were lost in the wind as Draco pushed off and shot towards the shattered window. They burst into the chilly morning air and soared upwards, circling round and round, before finally alighting upon the observation deck of the Astronomy Tower.

"Merlin's Buggering Balls!" spluttered Ginny, sliding from the broom. She could still feel the deadly spell's heat on her cheek. "You were right! Wait… What now? I thought we were fleeing the castle? Won't they just follow and catch us?"

Malfoy shrunk the broom and stuffed it back into his pocket, running for the stairs. "Not before we get to where we're going. Come on!"

Ginny darted after him. They pounded down the spiraling steps and emerged into the seventh-floor corridor, right next to the statue of Barnabus the Barmy. Draco began to pace up and down the length of the hallway.

"What are you-"

"Shut it," the blonde spat. "I'm concentrating."

"Concentrating? Concentrating on…"

Ginny trailed off as an ornate door faded into existence in the wall beside her. She recognized it vaguely. It… was the same door through which she and Harry had hid from Filch last year. It was the same door behind which lay the room full of discarded junk; the room that had housed that terrible throne.

"Malfoy… that's just a storage room! They'll be able to find us in there!"

"No… they won't." Malfoy grabbed her hand and pulled her through, slamming the thick door shut behind them.

Ginny gasped. Gone were the towering piles of broken magical objects; gone were the Fanged Frisbees half-heartedly floating about the ceiling. They had entered into a beautifully lit common room, bedecked with both Slytherin and Gryffindor décor.

Her mouth fell open. "What?"

Malfoy laughed and plopped down onto a luxurious looking couch. "Welcome to the Come-and-Go room. It changes to meet your needs and is completely inaccessible if you don't want someone to get in. I was looking for somewhere we could hide for as long as need be… but I must say… this is a bit over the top. I take it you've been here before when it was something different?"

Ginny nodded numbly, sinking into an armchair beside the fire.

The blonde grabbed a glass of pumpkin juice from a silver tray that was floating next to the couch. "Me too. In our first year, Harry, Granger, Longbottom, and your ponce of a brother left me to Filch's mercy while we were out of bounds and I luckily ran across it. Turned into a bedroom where I spent the night. After that, I did a bit of research and I've been using it ever since."

Ginny curled up into the chair. "Not that I'm not grateful for what you did, but if I'm going to be stuck in here with you, could you please stop insulting Ron to my face?"

"Shall I insult Granger instead?" drawled Draco smarmily.

Ginny glared at him.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Weasley. Now I see why you and Harry are so close… you're just as obnoxiously self-righteous and noble as she is."

Ginny flipped him the bird and turned to gaze into the crackling fire. She was only vaguely aware of Draco as he puttered about the large common room, fiddling with this and that.

Eventually, he too sat down into a chair opposite of the fire.

"What?" she asked finally, uncomfortable with the way he was staring silently at her.

"Nothing," said Malfoy, gesturing vaguely. "I was just thinking that none of this probably would have happened had you not been parading around in Potter's clothes for the past two months, inciting anger from virtually everyone you passed. Lord knows how many times I've had to listen to Blaise rant about you."

"I can do what I like."

Draco laughed coldly. "Yes… yes you can. And you can get yourself killed too. Stupidity really does run in the family, doesn't it?"

Ginny ground her teeth. "Shut it… or I'll make you."

"Ooooo, I'm terrified, Weaslette. I mean, really… what are you trying to prove? It's such a worthless gesture. Not to mention… you look utterly _terrible_ in green. It clashes disgustingly with your hair."

Ginny said nothing. She wasn't going to let a ponce like Malfoy get to her.

"But really… you _are_ an imbecile. Do you actually think that Harry wants you wearing her identity like a bloody badge of honor, putting yourself at risk in the process? The answer is-"

"SHUT IT, MALFOY!"

Draco smiled infuriatingly. "No need for that. I'm just trying to help, you know. Well, that and I don't really fancy saving the life of a Weasley for a second time. This whole affair has left a rather nasty aftertaste in my mouth."

"No one _asked_ you to help me!"

"Not directly, no," he drawled, sounding bored. "But Harry understands that _nothing _goes on in Slytherin without my knowing about it. If you had died today… well… let's just say that I wouldn't be far behind. Harry would utterly… _lose it_. You don't understand what she was like while you were down in that chamber. I saw her on the verge of her sanity. I talked with her... attempted to reason with her. I've never been so scared of anything in my entire life. No… if I knew beforehand that you were going to be murdered and _didn't_ try to help you, I wouldn't live out the week. In a way, I'm looking after my own skin as much as I am yours."

Ginny scoffed. "Then you're a worthless excuse for a human being!"

Instead of sneering at her, he cocked his head interestedly. "Do you really think so? Harry has helped me realize that certain ugly aspects of my life have been sugar-coated for me. I've begun to question some of them… but not all. Honor, pride, knowledge of one's duty, respect for tradition… those are all worthy things to hold in high regard, are they not? Can you truly deem me worthless when I exemplify such traits?"

"All of those are overshadowed by the fact that you're a cruel, bigoted, pampered rich-boy. Now just… shut up and leave me alone, Malfoy."

The blonde boy stood and walked towards a staircase that most likely led to dormitories. "It's not like there's anything else to do except sit and talk… but fine. I'll venture out tonight to see if the old coot has returned."

As his foot touched the bottom stair, Ginny resignedly called out to him, "Wait a moment."

Draco turned, his eyebrow raised in mild amusement. "Yes?"

"Blaise will know you helped me, won't he?"

He chuckled. "Don't let your brother catch you worrying about a Malfoy. No… Blaise wouldn't _dare_ go against me. Harry may have ruined his life… but I can hammer the nails on his coffin."

Draco took another step upwards, but Ginny stopped him once more.

"Shall I stay or shall I go, Weasley? Make up your damn mind."

Ginny looked away from his piercing, silver gaze. "I just… you may be an arrogant blighter and you may have saved me purely out of your own interests, but… I could tell that you were sincere when you said… when you said that you loved her."

"And?" he drawled plainly.

"And… _well_… in my book, I guess that makes up for most of your terrible qualities. So… _thank you,_ Draco. You really _did_ save my life today. I'll… I'll be sure to tell Harry what you did if… _when_… I see her again. I think it would make her really happy."

"I'm not a dog, Weasley. I don't need to be rewarded."

And with that, he climbed the steps and slipped out of sight.

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Keeping her head down and her gaze fixed upon the hem of the old wizard's robe, Harry trailed behind Professor Dumbledore as they strode swiftly through the halls. The angry whispers of the students they passed bit into her, every disparaging remark solidifying the guilty feeling that sat in the pit of her stomach.

Professor Dumbledore finally stopped beside a plain door and knocked twice.

"It's open," said a muffled voice which Harry vaguely recognized. "Come in."

Harry followed the Headmaster inside. The second she stepped out from behind him, there was a loud bark that flowed fluidly into an excited shout. A pair of strong arms pulled her into a tight hug.

"Bless my bottom! You're here? You're alive?"

Harry returned her Godfather's embrace, snuggling into the crook of his neck. "Last time I checked."

Sirius hoisted her up to eye level and gave her a once over. "Did they not feed you? You're skin and bones! And… Good God! You smell rancid!"

Harry giggled. "It's just like when we first met, but we've switched places."

Sirius pulled her into another bone-breaking hug. "I was so worried, Prongslette. We've had virtually no word. I thought they might've had you kissed."

"Yes," said the vaguely familiar voice. "It's quite good to see you safe, Harry.

Over Sirius' shoulder as he squeezed the life out of her, Harry saw Remus sitting at a small desk cluttered with papers.

"Hello, Moony! What are you doing here? Actually… what is _either_ of you doing here?"

Sirius lowered her back down to the ground. "Remus is officially teaching Defense… and I'm _officially_ bothering Remus."

"Quite" said the Headmaster jovially. "I'll leave you three to it, shall I? Harry, I'll announce your innocence at dinner tonight, which should in effect stopper the vast majority of ill will directed towards you by your fellow students. Yet, for _everyone's _safety, I think it still a good idea to not venture anywhere without a friend by your side. Good afternoon, Gentlemen… Harry."

Harry didn't know how long she stayed in that little office, wrapped comfortably under Sirius' arm as she listened to him bicker playfully with Remus, but when her Godfather let out a tremendous yawn, she knew it was time.

"As much as I want to stay with you two… I have to go. I… I have to find her."

Sirius shared a strange look with Remus. "Of course… Of course, Harry. We won't stop you. I'll accompany you back to the dorm as a dog. It's quite the life you know: being a dog at Hogwarts. So many hands willing to give one's ears a good scratch."

Harry laughed. "See you, Remus. Full moon tomorrow, eh? I hope you get through it alright."

Remus nodded appreciatively. "I always do, Harry. I always do. Thank you for the concern."

"Come on, pup," said Sirius, tugging lightly at her rather greasy hair. "Let's go find you a ginger. Potters and redheads… I'll never understand."

Harry swatted at him, but her hand passed right over his head as he fell to all fours and transformed.

She said goodnight to Remus one last time, stepped outside the office… and froze on the spot.

Draco was leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, his grin slightly lopsided as he stared avidly at her.

"You look awful," he said tersely.

Harry shrugged. "I'm free though. Can't complain."

"It's… good to see you safe," he drawled lightly, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer.

Sirius growled menacingly.

The blonde smirked and prostrated his hands in a non-threatening manner. "Down, boy… I don't want to have to get _serious_ with you."

Harry's eyes widened with fear. "Draco… _please!_ Shut up!"

Draco waved her off. "Don't worry, Harry. I've known for ages. If I wanted to turn him in, I would have. Anyway, I just wanted to say… you won't find her in the Gryffindor common room."

"Who?" she asked, feeling slightly puzzled.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Who do you think? She has red hair, has been wearing your clothes for two months, and mopes about the castle all day long."

"Ginny's wearing my... you know what, never mind. Where is she?"

The boy shook his head and started to walk away. "Can't tell you… Have to show you. Come along."

Harry started to follow, but Sirius bit the back of her coat and tugged in the opposite direction, whining softly.

"It's alright, Sirius," she whispered. "He may be an arse… but I _do_ trust him. I'll see you later, alright?"

She rubbed her godfather's floppy ears, before running to catch up with Draco. The blonde led her all the way up to the seventh-floor without saying a word. He started to pace back and forth and before Harry had any inkling to ask what it was that he was doing, a familiar door popped into existence.

"She's in there," he said simply. "I'll take my leave here, seeing as I really don't want to be anywhere in your vicinity when you find out _why_ she's been in there all day. See you, Harry. I'm… glad you're back."

Before she could protest, he turned and vanished behind the tapestry of Gryffindor that hid the secret passage to the dungeons.

Harry shrugged and pushed open the door.

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw her.

Ginny lounged comfortably in an armchair, sipping from a silver goblet. She was indeed wearing what looked to be Harry's Weasley jumper and a pair of her older, slightly too-tight jeans. It was a very… _intriguing_… sight.

Amber gold-flecked orbs swiveled upwards to meet her as she stepped over the threshold.

It was like everything else in the world ceased to be important as she stared into a pair of eyes that, for the past three months, she had only been able to see though a haze of memory.

"Hey, Gin," squeaked Harry, her stomach performing nervous somersaults. "I'm… I'm back…"

A long, drawn-out moment of silence passed between them as a flood of conflicting expressions passed over her friend's face.

And then…

Ginny wailed loudly. It was neither a cry of happiness, nor of sadness. It sounded simply like… longing. The goblet the redhead was holding clattered to the floor as she leapt out of her armchair and charged at Harry like a bull.

She was knocked backwards into the door as the girl leapt on her, smashing their bodies together.

"Are you here?" choked Ginny desperately, clinging to every inch of her. "Are… Are you real?"

Harry sighed happily, her heart fluttering as the heady scent of strawberry drifted past her nose. Sliding her hands into the soft hair that was tickling her cheek, she pressed a kiss into Ginny's neck, "I'm here."

"_Finally,"_ the redhead sobbed, collapsing against Harry and pulling her down to the floor.

Cradling the younger girl, Harry whispered soothing nothings into Ginny's ear as her friend got rid of what felt like quite a lot of pent up distress. As softly as she could, she reached into Ginny's mind and tried to siphon away some of the anguish. But it was little use. It was like the redhead was bleeding heartbreak through a giant _gaping_ wound in the shape of the words 'You left me.'

"Ginny," Harry moaned quietly. "Please don't cry. I'm so sorry for leaving you. I'm so _so_ sorry. I didn't want to. You know I didn't. And I'm back now. It's alright. I don't want you to cry. If _you_ don't stop, _I'll_ start."

Eventually, with enough quiet coaxing, Ginny wiped at her eyes and raised herself up to nuzzle Harry's cheek. "I… m-missed y-you…" she whispered brokenly. "M-More than you'll ever k-know."

Harry shook her head. "I know exactly how much… and its breaking my heart. I thought about you all day and night in that cell. I think I'd be just as upset if I didn't have the unfair advantage of being with you whenever I closed my eyes. Please, be happy. I'm so happy to see you."

Ginny grinned weakly, brushing her fingers across Harry's chapped lips. "I am. I'm sad… _and angry_… it's been hell without you… but I'm happy too. Really happy. I was beginning to lose hope and it felt like I was losing my sanity. Now that you're here, it's all just flooding back and I'm a bit overwhelmed. Merlin… I love you, Harry Potter."

Harry nipped playfully at the girl's hand. "And I you, Gin… _so much_."

Ginny leaned forward and for a truly wonderful split-second, Harry thought she was going to…

But she didn't.

The kiss landed on her nose.

"You smell terrible," Ginny said with a giggle, sliding off of her.

Harry smiled wryly, trying to ignore the way the redhead's leg dragged across her more sensitive bits. "So I've been told. Dumbledore scourgified my clothes… but it didn't really help."

Ginny pulled her up. "Come on… There's a bath upstairs."

Harry bounced up excitedly. It had been _so_ long since she'd had a bath. "_Ooo_… are there bubble taps?"

Ginny tugged her towards the stairs with a little laugh. "I see you're still a twit, then? Good… good."

"Once a twit always a twit." Harry grinned and jumped onto Ginny's back, demanding to be carried all the way up the staircase. "Now… _mush!_"

"_Harry,"_ giggled the redhead exasperatedly. "You can't possibly-"

"Mush, I say! Mush!"

Harry pinched her bum and Ginny squealed, hastily running for the steps. She collapsed, exhausted, at the top.

Harry snuggled into her back. "Feel better?"

The redhead rolled over and nodded against her neck. "Loads… but now I'm going to have to bathe as well to get your ripeness off."

Harry felt her cheeks heat up. "Oh… right. Well, we could… you know… _share_; like we used to?"

Ginny's ears turned pink and she looked away nervously. "Erm… I think we're bit too _old_ for that now, Harry."

"Right," agreed Harry quickly, standing up. "Right… you're right. Sorry."

Ginny bit her lip and fiddled with the tips of her hair. "But, if you really want me to-"

Harry shook her head frantically. "No… I'm… _no._ I didn't mean… well I did… I mean… It's been so long since I've seen you… since I've seen anyone, really… and I'm just… _Oh bugger_. Just forget I said anything, alright?"

Ginny frowned and reached for her hand, but Harry abruptly turned and walked into the bathroom. She stripped with haste and stepped into the water, submerging herself up to her nose and hoping that her friend hadn't seen that her entire body was slightly flushed.

_Idiot. You're such an idiot._

The redhead rolled up the legs of her tight jeans and sat down on the opposite edge of the tub, letting her feet dangle in the water. She lightly ran her toe along Harry's calf.

The sensation was… a bit too much to handle… and Harry quickly flattened her legs.

"You don't have to be embarrassed, Harry," mumbled Ginny. "If you want me to, I'll-"

"Why do you keep _saying_ that?" moaned Harry, hiding her eyes and shaking her head vehemently. "I don't _ever_ want you to do that! Never! Not with me… not with _anyone_ unless you… unless you… you know?"

Ginny stared hard at her. "I know. It's just… you're looking at me like I'm a piece of meat and I… well, it's a bit confusing."

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered. "I just… I've been looking at an eleven-year-old version of you for so long that I... completely forgot how beautiful you are."

Ginny turned a bright shade of red and Harry, wanting to die, sank below the water.

_What are you doing? What are you saying? Do you want her to hate you? Your best friend? Get a bloody hold on yourself!_

'_But she's so… sexy!' _said a small, excited, protesting, voice in the corner of her mind. _'She's wearing your clothes. She's yours. Ginny's yours. So why don't you take her? Why don't you take her to bed and-'_

_BECAUSE I LOVE HER!_

The rebelling voice was effectively trounced.

Harry nodded resolutely and rose back to the surface to apologize.

Ginny, however, was gone.

"Gin? Where did you-"

A toe poked her in the bum. "Here."

Harry leaned backwards and looked up at her. "Look… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"I don't care, Harry," said the redhead softly, running her fingers through Harry's hair. "I really don't. For the past month, I've let myself think that you were never coming back. Believe me when I say that right now, I'm too exhausted from wanting you back to care in the slightest that you think about me naked."

Harry gasped… and choked on the bathwater.

Ginny giggled. "Easy there, poppet. Don't die on me… _again_."

"Ha Ha…"

The girl tapped her nose. "Yes, I am stupendously _hilarious_. Now… let me wash your hair. It's been far too long and I need to reacquaint myself."

Harry sighed overdramatically. "Sometimes I think you're only friends with me because of my hair."

Ginny lathered a bit of shampoo onto Harry's head. "It's true. I don't care for you at all."

Harry smiled and leaned against Ginny's thigh as her head received a thorough scrubbing.

When the redhead finally finished, she stepped out of the tub, leaned down, and kissed the top of Harry's head. "Farewell, sweet hair, my truest of friends. I must leave you now to pop in the shower, but fear not, I shall return!"

Harry splashed her. "You're such a git."

"I know," said Ginny lightly, tugging off Harry's 'H' jumper. "But that's why you love me so much."

"Oh… I suppose," agreed Harry, only making a half-hearted effort to not look at Ginny as she undressed. Her folds tingled pleasantly as the redhead wiggled out of her tight jeans, revealing a rounded freckled bum and red knickers.

Ginny turned around and wrapped the jeans around her neck, swinging the legs back and forth like some sort of feather boa. "Like what you see, Potter? Feeling kinky? Shall I put the jumper back on?"

Harry slapped her hands over her eyes, trying to stop the suggested mental image of the redhead wearing nothing but knickers and her jumper from entering her brain. "Ginny! _Don't!_ Yeah, I've seen you starkers plenty of times and all, but this is just mean!"

"_Sorry,"_ drawled Ginny, giggling sheepishly. "I couldn't help myself."

"Bollocks," grumbled Harry, barely able to resist the temptation to fiddle with herself for what would've be the first time in months. "When did you become so devious?"

"I'm not devious!" protested Ginny. "I'm just feeling… _You_ wanted me to be happy, didn't you? Well, this is me feeling _really_ happy."

"There's such a thing as being _too_ happy," Harry mumbled beneath her breath as she heard the showerhead turn on. "Hey, Gin?"

"Hmm?"

"Why _were_ you wearing my clothes? Do you need some? I could buy you new outfits… seeing as I've missed your birthday."

Ginny didn't answer her.

"Erm… Gin?"

"Do I need a reason? We're the same size. We share clothes all the time. It's never bothered you before."

"I'm not bothered!" replied Harry quickly. "Draco just said that it's been… well… going on for awhile."

Harry heard her sigh miserably.

"He brought you here, did he? Look, I just… I _really_ missed you, Harry. They smell like you and… You don't understand what it's been like. Everyone… well… I couldn't stand listening to people constantly bad mouthing you. When I wear them, people stop talking and glare at me instead. It seems to remind everyone that I still love you."

Harry's heart sank. "Is it really that bad?"

"You have no idea," whispered Ginny harshly. "The reason I'm hiding in here is because…"

The girl trailed off.

"Hiding?" asked Harry slowly. "Hiding from what?"

"Never mind," said Ginny overly-cheerily. "Don't worry about it. Dumbledore's back, right? I can come out now."

Harry didn't buy the false cheer for a second. "Gin, what were you hiding from?"

"Nothing."

Harry frowned, remembering what Draco had said about not wanting to be around her when she found out why Ginny was in this particular room.

"Don't make me fish around in your head, because I will if I have to."

The showerhead rumbled off and after a moment, Ginny stepped back into view with a towel wrapped around her midsection. She sat down once more on the edge of the tub, threading her fingers back into Harry's hair.

"Just don't explode anything when I tell you, alright?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why would I-"

"Blaise Zabini hired someone to have me killed while Dumbledore was out of the castle. If Draco hadn't helped me hide… well… I think I'd be dead."

Ginny said all of this extremely quickly, but Harry still caught every word.

"He hired someone to... _WHAT?_"

The mirrors cracked. The water began to froth to and fro. Wind blew the windows off their hinges.

"Harry!"

Her eyes burned painfully. Blinding, white-hot anger surged through her body. She leapt out of the tub… but Ginny caught her arm and pulled her back down before she had taken a step.

"Harry, calm down! Your eyes! Don't you _dare_ give him an _inch_ of space!"

She could feel him there; he was sitting in the dark void that she never wanted to peer into. He wasn't seeping through… but he was reaching out, digging his claws into her thoughts.

"Let it go…" cooed Ginny. "Think! If you kill Blaise, they'll take you away from me again! _Let it go and stay with me._ Let it go… Please don't leave me, Harry. I'm not strong enough."

Every little bit of her wanted to tear, maim, and rip Blaise into a thousand tiny pieces; wanted to hang his entrails from the ceiling while he was still alive.

Ginny brushed her thumb against Harry's cheek. "Please… calm down."

Harry gulped, panting as she tried to control herself.

"That's it," Ginny whispered. "Focus on… I dunno… erm… _me_. Focus on my heartbeat. Here."

She grabbed Harry's hand and placed it lightly above the swell of her chest.

"Just… _listen._"

Harry closed her eyes, sinking into the rythym of the pounding drum she could feel beneath her fingers. The liquid beat of the redhead's blood spiraled around her in the dark; she could _feel_ the magic within it. It was warm and bright and... beautiful.

Harry felt his claws release; felt his uncontrollable rage leaving her. It simply..._ trickled away_. When she finally opened her eyes, she felt calm; _at peace_.

Ginny was smiling at her. "Hello… welcome back."

"How did you do that?" asked Harry, slightly stunned. "He was latching on to me… and you just… made him let go."

Ginny shrugged happily, running her fingers gently along Harry's jaw. "No idea. I just thought it might work. Since Ron can pull you out of the Petrifying Dream just by talking, I guessed this might be the same."

Harry slid back down into the water, feeling wretched. "Well, thank Merlin for Weasleys, eh?"

Ginny giggled. "We do come in handy every now and then."

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Pansy stretched luxuriously as she was rather rudely awoken by a pair of lips on her neck. "Mmmm... Draco… your hands are freezing."

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Blame it on poor circulation. I find you in my bed half-naked and it becomes difficult to maintain a steady flow of blood to unimportant parts of my body."

Pansy smiled. "That's what I like to hear. Where have you been? It's past curfew."

"Out," he muttered vaguely, his fingers dipping into her knickers.

"Straight to the point today, then?"

He grunted affirmatively as his other hand struggled with her bra.

"I see… and does this entirely welcome vigor have anything to do with the fact that you're thinking about Potter?"

Draco froze… and that was all the answer she needed.

"Yes… I _do_ know that she's back. _Damn't_ Draco… Why I let you touch my body, I don't know."

He rolled off her and leaned back into the pillows. "What does it matter who I'm thinking about? You… her… you still get what you want, don't you?"

Pansy curled into his side, trailing her fingernails lazily across his bare chest. "You really are a bastard. You know that, don't you, my love?"

He pulled her on top of him, his hands sliding her knickers down her hips. "Yes… I'm quite aware, Pans."

She placed a preventative hand on his chest as he tried to kiss her. "Tell me you love me."

"I love you."

She dug her nails into his skin. "Like you mean it, you little shite."

His chilly hand cupped her cheek. "Why do you always say that? _I love you_. I do. You know I do."

"I just want to hear it in your voice," she said huskily, slowly removing her bra. "You _do_ always get it on the second time though."

His eyes widened ever so slightly as her breasts swung free. Of all his bodily reactions, it was this little one that she loved the most. She loved it because it happened every time, without fail, when she revealed her chest.

Pansy gasped as his mouth closed over a nipple, his tongue swirling around the bud magnificently. Tangling her hands into his feathery-soft hair, she leaned down and placed her lips next to his ear. _"If you play with my arse a little… I'll use my mouth."_

Draco went rigid.

Even though _she_ enjoyed it so very _very_ much, he had been unwilling to explore that part of her body with her. What better way to finally convince him than with a promise that in return, she would grace him with the supreme gift.

Pansy smirked.

She had deliberately failed to specify _when_ she would deliver on said gift.

Just as Draco opened his mouth to hopefully agree to her little scheme, a loud BANG made them both jump a foot in the air. It sounded suspiciously like someone had just kicked down the dormitory's door.

A deadly whisper cut through the resulting silence; a whisper that chilled Pansy to the very bone.

"_Where is he? Where's Zabini?"_

"Th-There," stuttered Gregory stupidly.

Pansy scoffed incredulously. "_Idiot! _Why didn't he lie?"

Draco scowled, sinking back into the pillows. "It wouldn't have helped. I had a feeling she'd do this. Stay away from the curtains, Pans."

There was another loud BANG.

Pansy reflexively huddled against Draco as she remembered the horrid images that the girl had put into her head. "Is that-"

"Of course it is. It was in our best interest to save Weaselby's sister. I was hoping the stupid little bint would have been so happy to see H- Potter that she would have forgotten that she almost died. Nothing to do now but wait and listen."

As if on cue, there was a splintering of wood and a violent squeal that Pansy recognized as belonging to the slim African boy.

"YOU! YOU LITTLE… LET ME DOWN! I"LL KILL YOU!"

Pansy heard a tremendous _slam,_ like something fleshy had just collided with the wall, as well as a deep '_oof,'_ confirming that Blaise was most likely that fleshy something.

There was another _slam_.

And another.

And another.

"Is she… _levitating_ him?" gasped Pansy, horrified by the girl's depravity.

Draco waved his hand bemusedly. "If you want to join him, then by all means peek through the curtains and find out."

There was another slam, but this one was softer, like she had thrust him down on his four-poster.

"I know what you did," said Potter in a feral snarl. "I understand it completely and I don't hold it against you. I killed someone you loved; devastated your family. You wanted to do the same to me. Trust me, I'm _extremely_ familiar with the feeling. I'm sorry about your father, Blaise… truly. I swear to you on my parents' graves that it was Voldemort, not me, that killed him. But even with that being true, it's _my_ fault for allowing him to get out. I wasn't strong enough. I probably never will be. Anyway, you deserve a chance for revenge… I know that. If you challenge me out in the open, I'll accept. We can go into the forest and you can have your chance to kill me."

Her voice became deathly quiet and Pansy had to strain her ears to hear what the girl was saying. "But know this. Your fight is with _me._ If you go after _any_ of my friends, Zabini, you will live _just_ long enough to regret it. And… And… if you take Ginny away from me, the last thing I'll do on this earth is kill your whole family _right_ in front of you; I'll let _Voldemort _out of my head _right_ in front of you. He's not like the real Dark Lord. The real one is cunning; calculating; he's the most soulless, evil man to ever live. The Dark Lord in my head? He's _worse_. He's not even a real person. He's just… hate; pure, unadulterated hate and rage. He has no aims; no objectives. He just wants to _kill_ in the most painful way possible. _He_ can have his way with your mother and… what was it… _four _younger sisters? Sounds heartless, right? If you take Ginny away, I won't have a heart anymore. I'll be totally numb. Do you understand me, Blaise?"

…

"Do you _understand?_"

"_Yes…" _

"Good," hissed the girl. "And let that be a warning to _all_ of you. Pansy…"

Pansy jumped at being addressed.

_How does that little bint know-_

"I'm a Legilimens, you stupid cow. How have you not realized that? I know you hate me, but I trust your fat mouth to spread the word: whatever one's quarrel is with me personally, Ginny Weasley is off limits. I _will_ kill for her. Now… with all that being said… Blaise, what's your vault number?"

"Why do you-"

"_What is it?"_ she spat.

"Th-Thirty-one hundred seventeen."

"Mine is six-eighty-seven. Hogwarts' is seven-thirteen. Do you know what that means? It means that my family's money has been collecting interest since before Hogwarts was even a gleam in Godric's eye. It means that I can pay your father's salary for a hundred years and not put a dent in my vault. That's my offer, the same offer that I'm going to make to twenty-some other families. Some will turn me down… but I think the ones in need of real help won't."

Pansy heard Blaise spit. "I don't want your-"

"I know. No amount of money is worth your father's life. I would pay all the money in the world to have my Mum and Dad back. Think of it only as something to keep your family afloat until you can support yourse-"

"I said I don't want it, Potter! Are you fucking deaf? I'm not going to assuage your guilt!"

"No… of course not... I didn't think you'd take it. Well, the offer stands. Sorry about your bed. Professor Snape will be able to-"

"I'll be able to _what_, Potter?"

"Oh… hello there, Professor. I was just saying that you'd be able to fix this bed that I broke. You can, can't you, sir?"

Pansy's eyes bulged as the girl's flippant tone thickened the already palpable tension in the air.

"Zabini… Hospital Wing. Goyle… escort him. _Potter_… breaking curfew to sneak into another house where you attack a student in their bed? My my... I think it must be my lucky day. My office… _now_."

Pansy stared hollowly at the curtains as she heard several pairs of feet passing by the bed.

"_Well,_ I can't say that wasn't entertaining, but _I_ was expecting something like that to happen and I feel like some of the shock value was lost on me," said Draco amusedly, slipping his arms around her. "How was it for you? Was it good? _Can I make it better?_"

"Shut up, Draco," she hissed, pulling her clothes back on. "I'm not in the mood anymore. That scar-headed _cunt_ ruined it."

He pouted. "You're going to leave me like this?"

Pansy ground her teeth and wrenched open the curtains. "Oh! I know what you can do! You can have a nice, relaxing _wank_ on your lonesome as you think about _her_ instead of me!"

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**Hope you liked the second half of my 'satisfactory' chapter.**

**Do leave a review.**

**New art.**

For those who are confused with the soul fragment: When Harry experiences extreme emotions that cause her to lose control of her rationality, the horcrux can influence her... but not take control. It can only take control when she fully loses consciousness without protecting her mind, yet is for all intents and purposes still mentally active (Dreaming, feinting, etc). Being stunned or knocked out for example wouldn't cause her to _Harrymorph_ into _Harrymort_. When her eyes turn completely red, he's in control. When the rims of her eyes are red, she's still Harry... but experiencing Tom's emotions.


	23. Chapter 20: The Stallion and the Stag

Yes, yes, the wait was obscenely long. Yell at me if you must. I had to spend quite a lot of time pouring through my planned plot to craft some of the wording in this very _very_ important chapter… and that's all I'll say about that. : )

I encourage everyone to review, positively or negatively. Don't hesitate to criticize, or ask questions, or whatever. I enjoy explaining my writing and bringing people deeper into my own little Potterverse.

This chapter picks up immediately where the last left off.

**Chapter 20: The Stallion and the Stag**

_For as the eyes of bats are to the blaze of day, so is the reason in our soul to the things which are by nature most evident of all._

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Harry glared obstinately at the hook-nosed man that was scribbling quietly at his desk. She had done what she needed to do and would bear any punishment he doled out with pride. Be it losing points, serving detention, or hanging by her thumbs from hooks in the ceiling… none of it mattered when compared with losing Ginny.

She did wish, however, that he would get this over with, seeing as the two of them had been sitting in silence for the better part of an hour. She would much rather serve a hundred detentions than spend hours sitting with Snape in his slimy dungeon office.

As the greasy-haired Potions Master rolled up the sheet of parchment that he had been working on, Harry thought for a fleeting, shining moment that he would finally punish her and let her leave… but her hopes were promptly dashed when he unrolled a fresh scroll.

"Are you ever going to let me-"

"_Silence_, Potter."

Harry closed her mouth.

_Fine… you greasy git. You want to play this game? Then let's play. _

Reaching out with a mental tendril… she gave his mind a good, solid, vindictive _poke_.

Snape's bottomless black eyes flicked upward.

Smiling innocently, she smoothed her skirt and asked politely, "Yes, sir? Is something wrong?"

Glowering, the man leveled Harry with a look that would've made hell itself freeze over, but silently returned to his work.

Harry grinned and poked again, only this time, she laced the tendril with the mental image of her parents _snogging_ each other passionately.

Professor Snape's sallow skin reddened. The lines on his face deepened as his jaw clenched. Looking up at her, the absolute fury in his coal-like eyes evident, he whispered in an icy tone, "_Desist_, Potter, or I shall make you regret it."

"I'm not doing anything, sir. I'm just sitting here."

"Don't toy with me, you _insolent_ whelp," breathed Snape, leaning forward into the dim light cast by his pair of measly candles. "You're just like your-"

"Mum?" interrupted Harry. "You know, everyone says I'm a lot like my Mum. They say I look exactly like her too. What do _you_ think, _Professor? _Don't I look _just_ like Lily _Potter_?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. _"_For both your cheek and the attack on Mr. Zabini, I think I'll take... _one-hundred _points from Gryffindor_."_

Harry nodded solemnly, feigning disappointment. "Alright, sir… I deserve it, after all. May I leave now?"

"_No, _we're not _finished_ yet," replied the Potion's Master nastily. He rose, gliding around the desk like an overgrown bat. "_Potter… Potter… Potter._ Tell me… what did it feel like to _kill_ all those innocent people?"

Harry felt the blood rush out of her cheeks. Her calm composure trickled away as the unexpected question bounced around in her head.

The power had been… _electrifying_. She could remember the black magic rushing down her arm; she could remember her anger and hate for Voldemort only feeding the strength of the spells he had fired; she could remember the glint of spellfire in her victims' eyes. Even now, sitting in a dank dungeon, she could _feel_ their anguish as her wand delivered them into the hands of death.

He swooped down so that his lips were inches from her ear. "Did it feel… _good?_ Did it make you feel _powerful?_"

Harry clenched her teeth. "No… _it didn't._"

"_Oh?_ But I think it did," whispered Snape. "You felt like Merlin himself, wielding such magic. I could see it in your eyes. Photographs don't lie, Potter."

"That wasn't me!" she nearly shouted, surprising herself with how desperate she sounded. "I mean… it was h-him, _not me_. I couldn't control myself!"

"You sound uncertain," said Snape silkily. "It certainly _looked_ like you. Why should _anyone_ believe that you were possessed? I think _you_ murdered them all… and I think you _liked it_!"

"I DIDN"T!" screamed Harry angrily, her rapidly increasing pulse throbbing within her neck. "I couldn't… I couldn't _control_ myself! _I swear!_"

"_Prove it,"_ he hissed dangerously.

Harry remained silent and Snape's lips twisted into a feral sneer.

"Oh dear… you can't, can you? I think I'll kill you right now, thus saving the world from your ilk."

Harry stood up abruptly. "_Goodnight_, sir… I'm leaving."

Snape slowly raised his wand, his hollow-eyes narrowing vindictively. _"No_, Potter…_You're not."_

Harry's gasped as the wandtip glowed orange. She spun to make a run for the door, but conjured ropes snapped around her wrists and ankles before she had even taken a step. Toppling forwards, she fell painfully to the cold, slimy stone.

Snape calmly used his foot to roll her over. "That's right, Potter… _time to die_. But first… I want you to tell me… how did that make you feel? _Angry?_ Do you want to hurt me?"

Harry spat the blood that had pooled in her mouth onto the man's polished shoe. She was _NOT_ going to let _Snape _of all people be the one to end her life… well, not without a fight at least. Growling and glaring directly into his gaze, she dove into his mind. Weighting it with all the agony and misery she had ever felt in her life, she poised her mental hammer to strike a vicious blow against Snape's Occlumency shields…

But… surprisingly… there weren't any shields to strike.

Harry was disconcerted as she met no resistance of any sort in Snape's mind. It wasn't like him at all; he _always_ had shields. Stranger still was the _emptiness_ of his mental corridor. She was running through a never-ending hallway; no memories to be found.

Harry didn't understand. There were supposed to be doors… hundreds of thousands of doors.

Snape was simply… _blank._

Quite suddenly, the walls around Harry fell away and she found herself sprinting into a large, dark chamber. It was lit only by two torches on either side of a magnificent throne that was ornately carved from a material that looked suspiciously like _bone_.

A tall, hooded, distinctly male figure lounged upon the throne's seat, lazily drumming his pale, spindly fingers against the arm… and although Harry was standing right in front of him, he obviously couldn't see her.

This was a memory. She was sure of it. And that meant…

"So this is you, is it?" asked Harry bitterly, glaring around at the surroundings, knowing that Snape could hear her. "A throne's a bit much, don't you think?"

As she stepped closer to the man, wondering vaguely just what it was that her Professor was doing sitting by himself in a seemingly empty room, a hushed voice whispered from the shadows, making her jump.

"My Lord… I have news."

Harry backpedaled as the cloaked occupant of the throne drew back his hood.

It wasn't Snape.

It was him... _Voldemort..._ and yet, his face was disturbingly_ different_ from the one she knew so well. It was a face she had never seen before; entirely _new_ and entirely _terrifying_. His eyes still carried their signature red glow and his nose was still slit like a snake's, but he actually looked somewhat… _human_. There was smattering of dark, thinning hair upon his head and his regal, almost… _handsome_… face sported a neatly-trimmed beard. He looked almost like a normal man… and _that_ was what scared Harry the most. It was so much easier to be brave when she thought of him as a creature of pure nightmare, for nightmares always came to an end, no matter how terrifying or vivid they might be.

"Ahhh," hissed Voldemort softly. "_Severus_. You may approach."

She gasped as another cloaked man sidled into the flickering light and fell to his hands and knees at the hem of Voldemort's robes. He was wearing a faceless, pearly-white mask… and Harry _knew_ what that meant.

"You're… YOU'RE A DEATH EATER!" she cried angrily at the ceiling. "YOU... I DON'T... _Just you wait!_ Dumbledore's going to find out! You're going to Azkaban, you piece of SHITE!"

An invisible force wrapped around her head and forcibly bound her vision back upon the throne.

It was then that she realized that she had not stumbled upon this memory by mere circumstance. The Death Eater was _forcing_ her to watch it.

"NO! I DON'T WANT TO-"

Harry lost her ability to speak and after a brief bout of struggling to break free, she bitterly resigned herself to witness the events playing out in front of her.

Snape hadn't removed his gaze from the floor, not even while addressing the throne.

"-been trailing Dumbledore for the past month as per your orders. Today, he met with a woman applying for the teaching position of Divination. At first, she seemed like a fraud, yet as Dumbledore stood to leave, I _heard_ her, my Lord; I heard _true_ prophecy. It was… about yourself."

"_Myself?"_ hissed Voldemort, leaning forward, clearly intrigued. His crimson gaze gleamed strangely in the torchlight. "_Interesting._ I shall hear this prophecy, Severus."

"O-Of course, my Lord," stuttered Snape. "_The one with the power to v-vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice d-defied him, born as the s-seventh month dies..._"

Voldemort's eyes darkened, his interested expression becoming steadily stonier with every passing word. "And… is that _all,_ Severus?"

Snape gulped noisily. "I… My presence was detected, my Lord. I did not hear the-"

"_CRUCIO!"_

Harry hurriedly looked away as the man began to twitch and flail, yet it did little to help. Even though he was a right foul bastard to her whenever he got the chance, the agony in her Professor's screams still made her wince_._ After a full minute had passed… Voldemort finally flicked his wand upward and Snape collapsed at his feet, looking broken.

"Augustus…" breathed Voldemort.

"My Lord?" answered another voice from the shadows.

The Dark Lord sank backwards into his throne of bone. "_Infiltrate_ St. Mungos. Bring me news of all the children born this past week."

"At once, my Lord."

The scenery around Harry began to fade and shift, finally reforming after whirling through a haze of jumbled colors. As she regained her bearings, she realized that the chamber was gone. She had arrived on a hilltop that looked utterly forlorn and cold in the darkness. The howling wind swirled around her, whistling through the branches of a few leafless trees, making them creak and croak.

A tall man with black hair stood before her, just a ways down the hill. It was _unmistakably_ a younger version of Snape; perhaps just barely in his twenties. He was panting, turning on the spot, his wand gripped tightly in his hand. It looked as if he was waiting for something… or someone…

Out of nowhere, a blinding, jagged jet of white light crackled through the air; Harry recognized it as the very same lightning that Dumbledore had fired at Ginny last year.

Flinging his wand out of his hand as the spell whizzed by his ear, Snape dropped to his knees and shouted pleadingly, "Don't kill me!"

"That was not my intention," answered a familiar voice.

Any sound of the Headmaster apparating had been drowned out by the strong wind whooshing past Harry's ears. The old wizard stood before Snape with his robes whipping around him, his face illuminated eerily from the light cast by his wand.

"Well, Severus? What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?"

"No… no message," said Snape quietly. "I'm here on my own account! I… I come with a warning … no, _a request_… please…"

Dumbledore flicked his wand. Though leaves and branches still flew through the night air around them, silence fell on the spot where he and Snape faced each other.

"What request could a _Death Eater_ make of _me?_"

"Th-The prophecy… the prediction… Trelawney…"

"Ah, yes," said Dumbledore. "How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort?"

"_Everything_… everything I heard!" moaned Snape, anguish stricken across his face. "That is why… it is for that reason… he thinks it means Lily Evans!"

"The prophecy did not refer to a grown woman," replied Dumbledore calmly. "It spoke of a child born at the end of July."

"You know what I mean!" cried Snape. "He thinks it means her daughter! He is going to hunt her down… and kill them all…"

"If Lily means so much to you," mused Dumbledore, "_surely _Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for mercy for the mother in exchange for the child?"

"I have… I _have _asked him…"

"You _disgust_ me," spat Dumbledore, his penetrating gaze turning hard with anger. Harry had never heard so much contempt in the kindly man's voice, not even when he had been speaking to Voldemort.

Snape seemed to shrink on the spot, cowering beneath the towering wizard.

"You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and daughter? _They_ can die, so long as _you _get what you want?"

After a hesitating, penitent silence, Snape finally croaked, "Hide them all, then. Keep her… _them_… safe. _Please._"

Dumbledore lowered his wand. "And what will you give me in return, Severus?"

"In… In return?" stuttered Snape weakly. "I… _I'll do anything._"

Something cold lashed itself around Harry's naval and wrenched her backwards. The walls of Snape's blank corridor rematerialized, flying past her in a blur as she was yanked out of the man's mind.

Once more, Harry found herself staring into his cold, black eyes. There was no kindness there… no love… _only spite_. Anger like she had never felt before sparked into life, blazing and roaring in her heart with the ferocity of an enraged dragon. A hundred dark curses and their vivid imagined effects on Snape seared through her mind, making her fingers twitch in anticipation.

Snape leered at her as she struggled against her binds. "Your hands and feet are bound; you toy with _basic_ Legilimency like a frail child playing in a sand-box. You're weak. You're helpless. How does it feel, _Potter_, to know that _I'm_ the reason your parents are dead? How does it feel, Potter, _to be at my mercy?"_

Harry's vision blurred red. She welcomed Voldemort's hate with open arms as he sank his claws into her fury.

Snape flinched and gritted his teeth, grabbing his upper arm like it had suddenly pained him. "That's it, Potter! _Hate me!_ Let him out! _I'M_ THE REASON YOU SUFFERED! DON'T YOU WANT TO SEE ME _DEAD?_"

Her eyes burning with fiery tears, Harry screamed her rage to the heavens, making a promise for all to hear.

"I'LL… I'LL… _I'LL KILL YOU!_"

The hundreds of jars lining the walls of Snape's office exploded as one, raining glass, liquid, and sticky ingredients in every direction.

Her binds snapped. She leapt onto the Potion's Master, her hands finding his throat with little difficulty. The anguish resulting from eleven years of being slapped, punched, baited, and maimed trickled down into her fingers, strengthening her grip. A sweet sensation of vengeance flooded over her as she squeezed the life out of the slimy bastard.

The struggling man spluttered, gagging for air, and Harry smirked viciously. She was going to _kill_ Severus Snape and there was nothing anyone could-

Snape raised a small perfume bottle to her eyes… and sprayed it.

She lost her grip.

The world went dark.

…

…

…

A sharp slap on her cheek brought Harry reeling into consciousness. When her vision finally stopped spinning, she realized that she was back in her chair, her arms and legs bound tightly to the wood.

Snape, now sitting at his desk, lowered his wand, picked up his quill, and resumed his quiet scribbling.

As Harry stared at him, she felt... nothing; no rage, no heartbreak… _nothing_. She was empty… and exhausted.

"Why am I-"

Snape cut her off. "I've given you a Calming Drought so strong, it could make a Manticore docile enough to snuggle. You won't be feeling anything for days, Potter."

Harry bit her lip, quietly watching him toil away. Finally, when she could bear the silence no longer, she asked simply, "So… you're a Death Eater, then? You _serve_ him?"

"Not anymore," replied Snape coldly. "I changed my allegiances that night."

"But… I don't understand. _Why_ did you tell Voldemort that… _thing?_ It made him come after us, didn't it? I thought… I thought you _loved_ her, Professor..."

Snape's sour expression softened. He dropped his quill, grabbed his wand, and flourished it, not at Harry, but at the space beside her. Sparkling silver light burst from the tip, spiraling down to the floor, taking the shape of… _a deer_… a silvery doe to be exact.

The doe sidled towards Harry, sniffing her interestedly, before lightly licking her cheek. Its gentle touch felt like cool water running over her skin.

"My _patronus_," whispered Snape, brandishing his wand again to make the doe vanish. "My happiest memory in corporeal form. It is… _identical_ to Lily's. Yes, Potter, I am not ashamed to admit to you that I loved your mother. Even now, my feelings are unchanged. I made my report to the Dark Lord as soon as I overheard Dumbledore's conversation, which took place just _days_ after your birth. I had not even known Lily was pregnant. There was no way I-"

"I can't believe this," said Harry softly. "At heart… you're a _good_ person, aren't you? I know it was you that protected me from Quirrell at the Quidditch match two years ago. And yet… I _still_ hate you. I hate you because you _chose_ to serve him. I hate you because you _choose_ to be the way you are. You choose to be cruel to me when I do nothing to deserve it."

Snape's almost apologetic grimace quickly degraded into a sneer. "It is because I _detest_ you, Potter! You're just as arrogant and pig-headed as your father was. It disgusts me to see his traits in Lily's body. You are an _abomination_! A child that should have been-"

"Yours?" interrupted Harry again. "Don't make me laugh. My Mum _loves_ my Dad. You saw that image I showed you. I met them when I crossed over. Maybe she _did_ care for you once upon a time, but she doesn't love you anymore, does she? She's only deigned to forgive you for everything that you did because she's kind. But me? I'll never forgive you. _Never._"

"I'm not asking you to," Snape snarled.

Harry fell silent, staring down at her shoes. She wanted to get angry. She wanted to yell and scream and smash things, but she couldn't _feel_ anything.

"Then why are you telling me all this?" she muttered slowly. "_Why_ did you keep me here for an hour? _Why_ did you show me your memories? I don't _want_ to know you; I don't want to know about your past."

"I am a Professor at this school, Potter," replied Snape coolly. "It is my _job_ to teach. Thus, I am teaching you in the _only_ way you will truly understand: _by exploiting your weaknesses._ I was attempting to determine whether or not the Dark Lord could influence you while you were conscious. As I suspected, you become _tainted_ by his presence when you are deluded with the emotions that you have in common. With enough pressure and baiting, I forcibly tipped the scale. Let this be a lesson to you. If you continue to let your emotions run rampant, you will eventually _slip_, and you shall find yourself _back_ in a dingy cell with no hope of rescue. That is why, from this point forward, you shall make it your business to truly master Occlumency. It will help you to organize your mind."

"Why should I listen to you?" asked Harry. "You sent Voldemort after my family. You're scum."

"Do what you wish, Potter." Snape snapped his fingers and the ropes binding Harry's limbs to the chair vanished. "I have nothing more to say to you. You may go."

She stood slowly, drawing her wand from her pocket and pointing it at the Potions Master.

He raised his eyebrows in amusement. "I know it is often difficult for Gryffindors to continuously show signs of intelligence, but do try and think for a moment. _That_ is a very _poor_ idea."

"Is it?" asked Harry calmly. "Why? I know spells that would make Aurors flee in terror. I can scramble your organs with a single word."

"And... should you choose to do so, Potter, you shall be removed from this school and locked away, never to be seen or heard from again."

Harry's fingers twitched violently. They ached to flick the wand upwards and tear out the man's heart. However, she _knew_ that Snape was right. If she let her fingers do what they wanted to do, she would be taken away from Ginny... forever.

With a tumultuous effort, Harry finally managed to lower her wand. "I'm never going to forget this, Professor."

"I wouldn't expect you to," said Snape disinterestedly, picking up his quill and jotting a short note on a potion recipe. "_Now_… get out of my sight."

Pausing briefly in the doorway as she was leaving, Harry turned back to him. "One day, _sir_, be it today, tomorrow, or ten years from now, I'm going to pay you back for everything that you've done to me."

Snape ignored her.

Harry was still completely numb when she climbed back into the bed that the Come-and-Go room had provided for them. She was refusing to let herself think about anything that Snape had said. She simply wanted to lose herself in memory and rest.

Ginny moaned softly in her sleep and grabbed at Harry's waist as she scooted under the covers. Reflexively, inch by inch, the redhead's hand slipped beneath her shirt and slid up her chest until it was resting over her breast. Harry sighed as a tingle of pleasure ran down to her groin.

Her heart somersaulted pleasantly as she realized that, despite the effects of the calming potion, she was smiling into the pillow.

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He had nowhere to run; no one else to turn to. Dumbledore's reach seemed to extend to even the darkest corners of Europe. Just yesterday, in the midst of Jezerce City, Montenegro's hidden wizarding capital, he had encountered a seedy-looking man that had identified him with only a passing glance at his hand. Needless to say, he killed the man instantly and quietly crossed the border.

He scurried through the trees, clutching the two wands to his heart protectively. The Weasley boy's stolen spare had served him well over the past few months and he had come to think of it as his own. He never used the other, but he dared not let it leave his hand for fear of its loss.

It was the rats that had led him to these woods. Every rat from here to Paris had warned him of the Soul-Eater; warned him to stay out of the Dark Country's forests if he wanted to continue living. It was common knowledge that his master had favored this land as a safe-haven. It didn't take him much effort to put two and two together.

His mark began to tingle as he crept deeper and deeper into the gloomy woodlands. He was getting close… he could feel it.

When he stepped into a small clearing, the mark began to spasm and he knew that he had finally arrived. Raising his wand high, he shouted into the night, _"Morsmordre!"_

The skull and snake burned in the sky, shining in the darkness like a second moon. It would surely be seen for miles around. The only thing left to do was to sit and wait.

And so… he waited.

And waited…

And waited…

It was almost daybreak when he heard it: the _crackle_ of dead leaves getting closer and closer. It sounded as if something was _slithering_ towards him through the darkness.

"H-Hello?" he whispered. "M-My Lord?"

The crackling stopped.

There was a soft hiss…

And then… it _emerged_, leaping from the shadows to coil around his neck, effectively strangling him. Had he been able to scream, he would have, for the creature clinging to him was horrific. While its body was that of a large black snake, its bald, scaly head was that of a man's. Long fangs sat where teeth should have and its nose was nothing more than two thin slits.

Its crimson eyes roamed mesmerizingly over his face, before finally widening in recognition.

"_Wormtail…"_

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Hermione stared miserably at her reflection as she washed up.

Slowly but surely, the workload was taking its toll on her, just as Professor McGonagall had warned it would. She had started to take drastic measures, using the Time-Turner not only to attend her five elective classes, but to gain extra sleep as well. Every night for the past two weeks, the third-year girls' dormitory had housed two versions of her; her present-self and her past-self. Each morning, she'd turn back time and sleep in Harry's bed as her past-self slept in her own. She was risking a paradox in her timeline just for a few hours rest.

Ironically, those extra hours seemed to be doing more damage to her body than good. Time travel threw her internal clock completely out of balance. And it showed too. The puckered bags under her eyes made her look so much older than fourteen.

_Well, that's the price of knowledge, I suppose. No wonder Professor Dumbledore has so many wrinkles._

Hermione sighed.

_Ron would have laughed at that…_

Even though she had barely spoken to him due to her fear that she would once again blurt out her feelings only to be rejected, she knew that Ron had noticed the effects her busy schedule had on her. During their entire Hogsmeade visit, he had made several not-so-subtle suggestions that she 'relax and enjoy the village.' She _had_ tried her very best to take his advice, but the weight of all the homework she had yet to accomplish, along with the presence of Lavender trailing five feet behind them everywhere they went, had made relaxing rather difficult. When the girl had hooked her arm through Ron's, insisting that they head to Madam Puddifoot's, Hermione had gagged and promptly excused herself from their company.

She eyed the pink make-up kit that belonged to her blonde, gossiping roommate. For a split-second, jealousy reared its ugly head and she had the strongest urge to grab the ridiculous little thing from the adjacent sink and flush it down the toilet. Her fingers twitched towards the box… but then, her rationality and pity kicked in, tossing her jealousy out the window. Lavender had suffered through far too much these past two years to be spited simply because they fancied the same boy…

The same _infuriating_ boy… with his infuriating grin that made her heart pound… and his infuriating eyes that were the color of a cloudless azure sky… and his infuriating, lovable freckles that she _knew_ covered his _entire_ body, including his…

Hermione quickly splashed cold water over her face before her mind could wander back to the night that they had reached bliss simultaneously.

_I'm not going to do this again! I offered myself and he turned me down. I took the leap and he didn't catch me. It's done._

'_He did say he wanted to kiss you,'_ protested a small, rational voice at the back of her mind. _'He as good as told you that he's just worried about Harry's feelings. He prefers you. He wants you… you know he does… you saw it in his eyes.'_

She smiled at her reflection guiltily as she remembered the unbridled desire that had clouded Ron's gaze as her fingers had trailed down his chest. Perhaps there was a chance…

_No! I'm not going to do this!_

Nodding firmly, Hermione stalked out of the bathroom to head down to Dinner. The common room was empty apart from a few first years and…

Her heart did a little flip.

Ron was sitting in a table in the corner, hunched over his books. By the way his hands tugged agonizingly at his hair, she knew that he had to be working on Runes. It was like he had some natural block for the subject.

Hermione bit her lip nervously. She wanted to help him… she really did… but it had been so awkward between them for so long. She could barely speak to him without fumbling over her words. She was so afraid that if she tried to help, what came out of her mouth would not be homework advice, but another proclamation of love. She was so afraid that she wouldn't be able to help herself while leaning over his shoulder to look at his work; afraid that she would lean in, kiss him, and he would push her away.

But… despite her fear… she simply couldn't take watching him struggle any longer. Sauntering over, she sat down across from him and pulled out her Transfiguration book in an attempt to appear inconspicuous.

The text he was supposed to be translating was extremely basic, yet Ron was clearly having quite a lot of trouble. He kept grumbling and scratching out large paragraphs as he flipped through his cipher.

Steeling herself, she opened her mouth and said confidently, "It means truth, Ron. The little hooked circle means truth. It's the primary rune… and that's why all the rest of your translations are wrong."

Ron gaped at her. "You're _kidding_ me! You mean I have to start over? Bugger this. I'll take a zero."

Hermione flinched as he crumpled up his parchment and tossed it in the fire. "You didn't need to do that. I could have helped you fix it."

"S'alright," he said with a shrug. "I can't think straight anyway. I'm too worried about, Ginny. Have you seen her at all since this morning?"

"No, but… I'm sure she's fine, Ron," replied Hermione meekly. "She's probably just still upset. I suspect she'll turn up at Dinner."

The redhead nodded his agreement, before casting a nervous, sidelong glance in her direction. "So… does this mean that we're talking again? I think the last time was a week ago when you asked me for a quill."

She shrugged lightly. "What's there to talk about?"

Ron threw his hands into the air in exasperation. "It's been three _months_ since we've had a real conversation! All you do is nod or shake your head at me all day long! We have _plenty_ of things to talk about! Like…why you always look tired, or how you're taking classes that are scheduled at the same time."

"I can't tell you that," mumbled Hermione.

Ron crossed his arms. "Can't or won't?"

"_Can't._ Anyway, I'm managing just fine, thank you very much."

"Sure you are," he said quietly. "Well, since you don't want to talk about _that_, then let's talk about _us_.

Hermione's breath hitched in her chest as Ron's eyes flicked upwards to meet her gaze.

"U-Us?" she stuttered.

"Yeah," mumbled Ron, his ears turning pink. "There's more to us then what happened down in the village. We're friends first, aren't we?"

"I... I don't know. You _really_ hurt me, Ron. I don't know if I can…" She trailed off as he stood, walked around the table, and pulled her up into a warm hug.

Hermione stiffened in the embrace. "W-What are you-"

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, cutting her off. "I miss you, Mione. Can't we just… I dunno… ignore this?"

She buried her eyes into his soft jumper, balling the fabric into her fists and breathing him in. He smelled utterly divine; like grass and rain. All the inhibitions she had built up over the past few months were draining away from her, as if they had never existed.

"I miss you too… but I don't want to ignore it. I can't."

He stepped away from her, rubbing her shoulders softly. "Why did you two agree to make _me_ choose? It's bloody unfair."

"_Well_, we didn't want to hurt each other's feelings so we… we…" She trailed off again as she realized where this was going.

Ron tilted her chin upwards. His ears were turning redder than his hair. "That's the same reason I can't choose between two people I love."

Her heart wrenched terribly. "I know, Ron. I just-"

He placed a finger over her lips. "Listen. Granny Weasley used to say that you can't make life happen; that you just have to let it come. I reckon she's got it right. Please, Mione, can't we just be friends and… let things happen?"

The urge to stand up onto her tip-toes and snog the life out of him was incredibly strong, but she thankfully managed to resist it. "I suppose that's... Can you… Can you promise me one thing?"

"Sure."

Hermione ran her hands down his arms. "Promise me you won't _ever_ be with Lavender."

Ron grinned and made an 'X' over his chest. "Cross my heart. Blimey. When you left me with her this morning, I almost cried. After ten minutes in that shop listening to her blather on about Divination, I told her that I had to go see Snape for detention and bolted."

"That's cruel, Ron," she said, unable to stop the satisfied grin from spreading across her face. "And don't mention Divination to me please. I _really_ should drop it as a subject. It's utter _nonsense_."

"Trelawny predict anyone's death yet?" he asked cheerily.

"Only about twice a day," said Hermione. "I think that Neville is supposed to slip on a bar of soap today and crack open his head."

Ron smirked. "You know what? No offense to Nev, but I could actually see that happening. Come on. Let's go to Dinner, eh? I'm starving and I need to make sure that Ginny hasn't murdered anyone."

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Harry awoke to the soothing sensation of hands running through her hair. Light was pouring through the paned window, warming her cheeks and illuminating the specks of dust floating in the air. It had been so long since she had felt the early morning sun.

Soft skin brushed over her thigh as what felt like a leg slipped between her own.

"Morning," purred a soft voice into her hair. "Merlin… I've missed saying that to you."

"And I've missed hearing it," agreed Harry, smiling into the pillow and running her toes over Ginny's calf. Despite all that she had heard last night, despite all the despair and dread that was weighing her down, despite knowing that she was weak and had let all those people die, she still felt happy with her Ginny; still felt content. Being here, safe and warm in her favorite embrace, gave her all the strength that she needed to keep fighting.

Ginny let out a relaxed sigh, pulled her closer, and mumbled, "I want this to be what I wake-up to every day… for forever and ever."

Harry wiggled around to face her best friend, not bothering to stifle the moan of pleasure that escaped from her lips as Ginny's palm slid over a nipple. She raised a hand and brushed a lock of dazzling cherry-red hair away from the eyes she had missed so much.

"Me too… but I don't think that we'll actually be able to-"

Ginny placed a hand over her mouth. "Shut it. Don't ruin the mood."

"Oh… my sincerest apologies, Ginnykins," giggled Harry, nuzzling the girl's slim fingers.

"Ta," grumbled Ginny, stretching luxuriously and pushing herself up. "I haven't felt this good in ages and I want it to last at least until breakfast."

At the mere thought of real food, Harry's mouth began to water and her stomach rumbled tremendously.

As if in reply to the sounds of her digestion, there was a sharp_ CRACK._

Harry squeaked in surprise as a squirming eyesore of jumbled colors appeared out of thin-air and fell directly into Ginny's lap. A pair of gleaming green eyes the size of tennis balls gazed up at them from the pile of limbs and mismatched fabric.

"D-Dobby?" stuttered Harry in shock. "_Is that you?_ What on _earth _are you doing?"

"Miss Harry Potter!" squealed the house-elf brightly, scrambling about in his effort to turn right-side-up. "Is you and your Weezey wanting breakfast, Miss? Dobby will fix it for you! Dobby is Harry Potter's elf!"

Dobby frantically straightened his clashing Hawaiian shirt, polka-dot tie, orange bathing suit, fedora hat, and woolen socks, before leaping into Harry's lap to paw at her chest.

Harry quickly grabbed the hyperactive elf's shoulders and gingerly pushed him away. "_Dobby!_ Calm down! What do you _mean_ you're my elf?"

Dobby took a deep shuddering breath and sat down, continuing to twitch excitedly as he spoke. "The Headmaster has _hired_ Dobby to watch over Miss Harry Potter! If Harry Potter is taken over by the bad wizard, Dobby will make the bad wizard go away! Dobby will protect Harry Potter!"

Ginny's mumble of, "Oh Merlin… not this again," was almost entirely drowned out as Dobby shouted gleefully, "AND DOBBY IS BEING _PAID_, MISS! DOBBY IS GETTING ONE GALLEON A _MONTH_! DOBBY IS… DOBBY IS… DOBBY IS A _FREE_ ELF!"

"Oh… erm… that's _really_ great, Dobby," said Harry nervously, paling at the thought of experiencing more of the elf's various _'protection'_ techniques. "But… maybe you could try… erm… just doing what the Headmaster hired you to do… since… you're a free elf and all."

Dobby's eyes widened and he nodded vigorously, his ears flapping wildly about. "Yes, Miss. You're _right_. D-Dobby will not do work he is not paid to do! Dobby is _free!_ HAH HAA!"

Without any warning whatsoever, he vanished from the room with a signature _CRACK._

"That elf," said Ginny haltingly, "is an _absolute_ nutter."

Harry grinned and poked the redhead in the gut. "Yeah… but he's the good sort of nutter, isn't he?"

"S'pose so," agreed Ginny, smiling vaguely and swatting Harry's hand away from her belly. "Well then… breakfast? I'm betting that Ron and Hermione are going mad with worry since Dumbledore announced that you came back _yesterday_."

Harry frowned and cast her gaze towards the wall. "Y-You go, Gin. I don't… I don't really want any."

Her stomach betrayed her with another loud growl.

"You're a terrible liar, Piggy." Ginny leaned forward and placed a small kiss on Harry's cheek. "Don't worry… it'll be fine. Plenty of them won't blame you anymore."

The lifeless face of Mrs. Vane flashed before Harry's eyes.

_But… I blame me._

Pulling her knees up to her chest, she whispered into her pajama bottoms, "I'm not going. Not today."

Ginny sighed and pulled Harry out of the bed. "What are you going to do? Avoid everyone by not going to meals? You're rail thin again. You have to eat… especially if you're going to get your Seeker spot back. Even though we won the first match in points, I still lost the snitch to Chang. I've had too much Chaser practice."

Harry shrugged. "I don't want to play."

Ginny laughed softly. "You and I both know that's bollocks, Harry. Conjure me a comb, would you?"

Harry grabbed a wand from the bedside table and muttered a hasty, _"Apparo."_

"Cheers," said the redhead, snatching the comb out of the air and raking it though her shimmering hair. "Look, I know you don't want to face everyone, but you need to."

"You don't understand, Gin," moaned Harry, wrapping her arms around Ginny's waist.

Ginny leaned back into Harry's chest. "Explain it to me then."

Harry tightened her grip. Snape's biting words from the night before were still hanging over her like a dark, ominous cloud.

"I just… I just can't. Not today. It's too soon."

Ginny's eyes narrowed at Harry's reflection in a shockingly impressive imitation of Mrs. Weasley. "You're not telling me something. Out with it."

Harry grumbled obstinately into the girl's neck.

Smirking, Ginny turned, tossed away the comb, wrapped her arms around Harry's shoulders, and leaned in.

"Tell me."

Harry shivered pleasantly as the redhead's breath tingled against her earlobe. "Gin? What are-"

"If you tell me," Ginny whispered huskily, "the next time we change clothes… I'll strip _especially_ slowly. Maybe I'll turn on the wireless to set the mood."

As the mental image slowly took shape in her mind, Harry felt her face heat to an almost painful point. Swallowing the hard lump that had formed in her throat, she gently pushed her friend away. "Stop doing that, Gin. It's… It's not fair. I know you're just teasing, but... I can't handle it."

For a split-second, Ginny looked at her dubiously, as if she didn't understand… but then the girl's cheeks reddened and she gestured wildly in exasperation. "Oh for Merlin's sake! Just tell me, Potter!"

Harry stared at the floor, weighing her choices.

_Ginny won't care…_

_What if she runs? I can't…_

_She won't._

_She might…_

_No… she won't._

"Alright," Harry muttered finally, fiddling with the buttons on her sleeve. "J-Just tell me you love me."

Ginny cocked her head, peering curiously at her. "You know I do, Harry."

"Say it!" she cried, surprising herself yet again with how desperate she sounded. "And… And say it after too!"

Ginny wrapped her arms behind Harry's neck once more, leaning into her shoulder. "I shouldn't need to. I know what you're thinking… but I'm never going to hate you no matter what you tell me. How many times do we have to do this before it gets through your thick skull, eh?"

Harry nodded against Ginny's soft cheek. "I know. I'm sorry. I just… I just get so scared when I think about losing you."

Ginny tightened her embrace and whispered, "I'm going to do something rather silly now, alright? _I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, swear on my magic to always love Harriet Lily Potter with all my heart._"

Harry gasped as she felt a soft pulse of magic roll over them. "_G-Ginny!_ Did you just make an Unbrea-"

Ginny shook her head quickly before Harry could finish. "Of course not! It's just a regular magical vow. Don't you remember Mum getting upset when she thought I'd made a vow to fight You-Know-Who with you? Even though the repercussions of breaking one aren't _too_ serious, it's still binding. It'll always be on my mind if I go back on my promise. It will drive me mad. I'll go _mad_ if I stop loving you, Harry… not that that wasn't the case already. Now tell me why you're upset."

Harry gaped, open-mouthed, her heart skipping several beats as her friend leveled her with the fiery look that made her feel like she was the only person in the world.

Ginny slipped a finger under Harry's jaw and pushed it closed. "Well?"

"W-Why did you do that, Gin? That was too much."

"It really wasn't," said Ginny quietly, leaning back against the wall, "because I'm just as scared as you are. You're scared that I'll hate you and run away… but I'm always afraid that you'll abandon me because I'm not good enough for Harry Potter."

"I'd never abandon you!" cried Harry, aghast. "_Never!_ You know I wouldn't!"

Ginny closed her eyes and smiled benignly. "See? That's exactly what I'm trying to say. I thought a lot about this while you were gone; I thought a lot about _you_. We're both so afraid of the same thing… and we shouldn't be. We love each other… but we _need_ to trust each other too."

"I _do_ trust you," muttered Harry.

Ginny slowly shook her head. "But you don't… not completely. Since I can cut you where it hurts the most, you're afraid to trust me. The same... The same goes for me."

"Gin, I wouldn't-"

The redhead held up a hand to stop her. "Just listen. I finally realized back at the platform how much I need you in my life, Harry. I mean, I bloody _ache_ when you're not around! I made that vow because I don't ever intend to stop loving you. Even if you suddenly went dark and decided you wanted to conquer the world, I'd still love you; I'd fight you… but I'd still love you. _Forever and ever_; I meant it."

_Forever and ever…_

"That's a long time," Harry mumbled, unable to meet the redhead's eyes as their familiar mantra bounced around in her head. "I'll hold you to that, Weasley."

Ginny giggled and slipped her arms around Harry's waist. "And I'll stick to it, Potter. Now _please..._ tell me what's wrong."

The tenuous hold Harry had on her roiling emotions snapped and she fell to her knees at Ginny's feet. "I just can't go down there; I can't face them. I could have managed the blame and the guilt… but not now; not after… not after realizing that I… _liked it. _A part of me actually… _liked it!_"

Ginny sat down next to her and pulled her into a hug. "Liked what?"

Harry shook her head vehemently, tears budding from the corners of her eyes. She didn't want to say it. She didn't even want to think it.

"Tell me," Ginny urged, tugging Harry into her lap. "I want to help."

Harry buried her eyes into the redhead's freckled neck and took a deep, steadying breath. The sweet scent of strawberry wafting past her nose calmed the storm of anguish that churned in her mind and allowed her to haltingly admit it to both Ginny and herself.

"Last night… I… I snuck out and went to the dungeons to warn Blaise to lay off you. Snape turned up and we… we… we had a chat."

"That's it?" asked Ginny jokingly. "You were afraid I'd hate you because you spent some quality time with old hooknose?"

Despite her misery, Harry smiled weakly into Ginny's collar. "He was… _provoking_ me… just to see if Voldemort could get out while I was awake… and he… he asked me if it felt good when I was killing all those innocent people. And I… And I… _I lied when I said it didn't!_ God help me, but it felt… all that magic and rage _rushing_ out of me, Gin… it felt so _unbelievably_ good!"

Ginny brushed her thumb across Harry's cheeks, wiping away the wetness that stained them. "That's just what dark magic _does_, Harry. It pulls you in."

Harry dragged her knees to her chest. "I know! And I'm _terrified!_ I'm terrified that one day I'm going to stop being disgusted with it! I'm terrified that part of the reason he can take control is because casting it makes me feel alive! With all these spells in my head… sometimes I just want to let them come bursting out! I went _mad_ in Snape's office when he told me that he was the one who essentially sent Voldemort after my parents! For the first time, I _embraced_ it; I welcomed the hate with open arms! I wanted Snape _dead!_ I _still_ do! Even after he stopped me, even when I was entirely calm, even when I knew my life would essentially end if I went through with it, I _barely_ resisted killing him!"

"But you _did_ resist," said Ginny softly. "And that's what makes you different. Do you remember when we fought on the Astronomy tower? I could see you, you know, even though Tom was in control. I could see the terrible anger in your eyes and it frightened me, but... I could also see warmth and love; love for _me,_ Harry. You were everything good that night; you were just… _amazing!_ That's why you won't go dark, no matter how much black magic you do. You'll fight it every step of the way; I know you will."

Ginny tilted Harry's chin upwards with a finger. "And I think that's why I love you so much, Har."

Harry felt a pleasant sensation of warmth in her chest upon hearing the ridiculous sound of her truncated name. She had the strangest feeling that she had heard it somewhere before and yet, at the same time, she was quite positive that she had never been called 'Har' in her life.

Sniffling softly, she snuggled into the girl's embrace. "Are you _really_ going to call me that? Isn't 'Piggy' bad enough?"

"Only when you turn into Miss Grumpy-Face," replied Ginny teasingly, the gold flecks in her eyes seeming unusually bright as she smiled. The specks twinkled and glinted in the sunlight, looking almost as if they were moving; almost as if they were… _swirling…_ around her pupils.

Harry trembled as she lost herself in Ginny's glittering, amber gaze. Somewhere deep inside her, a sturdy wall crumbled. An intense, gut-wrenching sense of longing washed over her and the hourglass flipped of its own accord. Her heart was suddenly pounding, slamming against her ribcage like a firing piston. She became overly aware of all the spots in which their bodies were touching; the sensations of their skin rubbing together sending waves of tingles down her spine. She could feel the fiery heat of the redhead's sex beneath her bum. She could feel herself getting wet as strawberry assaulted her senses.

Gasping in shock, Harry scrambled away from Ginny before the urge to thrust her fingers into her knickers became overwhelming.

Ginny reached out to her. "Are you alright? I was only joking. I won't call you 'Har' if it bothers you _that_ much."

"Th-That's not it," she panted quickly, holding out a hand to stop the girl from approaching. She frantically attempted to switch her magic back to her core. "I'm fine! It's just… c-could you stay over there for a moment?"

Ginny's eyes widened with realization and a rosy flush steadily began to bloom on her cheeks. "Oh… _right_… erm… I'll just pop to the loo then, shall I?"

Harry nodded fervently.

She was extremely relieved when her magic remained firmly within her core as Ginny came out of the bathroom. The reaction had never been so intense before. She didn't think she would have been able to restrain herself from jumping her friend if faced with the mind-numbing pleasure for a second time so shortly after the first wave.

"Alright?" asked Ginny, her cheeks still slightly pink.

"Yeah," said Harry, smiling up at her. "I don't… I don't really know what came over me..."

"G-Good," stuttered the redhead, "because we're going to breakfast. I'll carry you if I have to."

"I think I'm too heavy."

"Not right now you're not," said Ginny, pulling her up. "I doubt you weigh five stone. And that's why you need to eat."

Harry began to protest, but Ginny grabbed her, slipped one arm around her back, the other beneath her knees, and hoisted her into the air.

_"Gin!"_ squealed Harry obstinately, squirming in the younger girl's tight grip. "Put me _down!_"

"Fat chance. We're going. If you hide, things will only get worse. You know I'm right."

Harry harrumphed indignantly and continued to squirm until she realized that she had neither the strength, nor the energy to break free. And… although she would never admit it to Ginny… she found that she rather _enjoyed_ being carried about like a princess.

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Pansy glowered into her porridge. She didn't need to look up to know who it was that had just entered the Great Hall. The way Draco's body went rigid against her side, the multitude of whispers that began to echo about the vaulted ceiling, and the loud, excited shouts that erupted from a good portion of the Gryffindor table were all the clues she needed to conclude that Scarhead had finally made her grand appearance.

She watched various redheads swing the disheveled looking Potter around like a ragdoll as they embraced.

_Stupid slag… Why can't you just go back to your cell? Why can't you just disappear?_

Pansy glared at her boyfriend out of the corner of her eye.

_I'm better than she is! Why do you… Why do you always…_

She bit her lip and angrily skewered a banger with her fork, imagining for a moment that it was Draco's head.

_No… I don't care! I DON'T CARE! He can… He can do whatever he wants! I win in the end. I'm the fiancée. I'm the fiancée. I'm the fiancée!_

Draco's breath visibly hitched and Pansy followed his gaze. Weasley had lifted Potter into a spinning hug. The black-haired girl's skirt had risen up past her hips and a swath of green knickers was clearly visible from their angle.

Outraged, she clenched her teeth and forcefully stabbed another Draco-esque sausage.

Pansy managed to contain her anger right up to the end of breakfast, when a small piece of parchment fluttered into Draco's lap from beneath the table. She pretended not to notice as he inconspicuously unfolded and glanced down at the message. The boy smirked and attempted to nonchalantly slip the parchment into his pocket.

Growling, she snatched the little note out of Draco's hands and poured over the untidy scrawl while holding her wand to his chin.

_Thank you for saving her. I owe you a favor. You're still a long way off, but if you keep it up, I eventually might be able to give you what you want._

_-H _

A jinx had left her lips before she had even finished reading. Draco fell backwards off the bench, clutching his face as ugly boils sprang up all over his skin. She stood to leave and instead of stepping over him, she ground her heel firmly into his groin as she stomped out of the Great Hall.

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"Oh dear," said Harry sheepishly, her eyes following Malfoy as he was carried away by Crabbe and Goyle. "I suspect that was my fault."

"Stupid bugger had it coming," laughed Ron, clapping the black-haired girl on the back. "That's what he gets for trying to… erm… _yeah_… never mind. So Harry… fancy a bit of Quidditch before class?"

"Oh _honestly_, Ronald," sighed Hermione. "I doubt Harry has the strength to-"

"Sure," agreed Harry avidly. "Come with us, Mione. It'll be great!"

Rolling her sausage and eggs disinterestedly around her plate, Ginny remained relatively silent as the Golden Trio had their happy reunion. She knew she was being selfish, but a small part of her wanted to shove her brother and Hermione away from Harry and drag the girl off to a place where they could be alone. It wasn't fair that they got to pick up with Harry right where they left off.

They hadn't suffered for her love. They hadn't _earned_ it.

As Ron and Hermione began to bicker, Harry turned her attention to Ginny, slipping a hand beneath the table to softly squeeze her knee. "Hey… what's wrong? You were all fired up when we came down, but now you look upset."

Ginny adopted her very best fake smile. "Nothing. Just a bit tired. I did carry you down to the third floor after all."

Harry raised her eyebrows in a manner that quite clearly said, _'I don't believe you,'_ but she thankfully didn't pursue the matter_._

Ginny slid her arms inside the cozy 'H' jumper and leaned into Harry's shoulder. Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift through all the tortures she had endured over the past few months. There had been curses, jinxes, death threats, and letters laced with potions to scar her hands. Throughout all the slander and hate, she _alone_ had remained faithful.

_They don't deserve you._

_They gave up._

"I'm not a prize," Harry whispered into her ear.

Ginny groaned and nudged the girl in the ribs. "Oi. Stay out of my head."

"No. I know when you're lying even without Legilimency. I know when you're… _Hey_… is that a _teapot?_ What's it doing? Who's-"

Ginny was thrown sideways as Harry leapt up, shrieking in pain. From the floor, she heard Ron's bellow of rage and Hermione's cry of concern. Gingerly pushing herself up, Ginny swelled with anger as she took in the scene. A large silver teapot was floating upside-down above Harry's head. The black-haired girl was hunched over the table, squealing and crying. Her clothes were drenched, steaming, and stained brown.

The teapot fell with a clatter onto Harry's back.

As students and teachers began to swarm around them, something inside Ginny snapped. She darted forward and slammed into her brother, who was carefully pulling the burned girl off the bench.

Ron toppled backwards into Dean.

"Ginny?" gasped Hermione. "What are you-"

"_You stay away from her!"_ spat Ginny ferociously, gathering Harry into her arms. "You don't… You don't… You don't get to _touch_ her!"

Harry moaned miserably as Ginny lifted her into the air and pushed through the crowd of people. Half of her friend's face was a nasty shade of red; the skin was swelling and blistering right before her eyes.

Ginny sprinted up three flights of stairs and burst into the Hospital Wing, shouting madly for Madam Pomfrey.

"I'm _here_, deary!" chided the matron, bustling over to them and gesturing to an unoccupied bed. "I'm here! Oh hush now, Miss Weasley… it's just a burn! I'll have her right as rain in a jiffy. Now draw the curtain and help me get this shirt off."

Ginny fidgeted nervously as the medi-witch dragged her wand across the large patches of swollen skin, returning them to their beautiful, flawless alabaster in less than a minute.

Madam Pomfrey patted Harry's stomach and pocketed her wand. "All done. I'll brew you up a potion for the lingering pain, Miss Potter. Sit tight."

As the matron ducked behind the curtain, Ginny plopped down onto the edge of the mattress and dutifully helped Harry button her shirt.

"I can do it by myself, Gin," said Harry, wincing as she tried to fumble with the buttons.

"Tough," replied Ginny, pushing the girl's hands away.

Harry sighed and leaned back into the pillow. "You really overreacted back there. This is probably going to happen a lot. You should apologize to them."

Ginny's palm froze overtop the buttons next to Harry' bra. She bit her lip and let her fingers trail gently along the freshly-healed skin. "I know… but I don't care. They didn't have to go through what I did. They don't… They just don't _deserve_ you…"

Harry grabbed Ginny's fingers and brought them to her cheek. "Don't say that. I don't blame them at all for thinking the worst and giving up. You shouldn't either."

Grumbling bitterly, Ginny clambered onto the bed and lay down. "You don't understand… they just went on with their lives! They just forgot you!"

With a soft groan, Harry wiggled into her side and whispered, "You know that's not true, Gin. Hermione keeps all her hurt bottled up and your brother just ignores things he doesn't want to cope with. I think they just… dealt with it differently."

"But I… But they didn't-"

"Of course they didn't," said Harry, nuzzling her cheek. "They're not us. You and me… we're simpletons. Hearts on our sleeve and all that."

Feeling physically and mentally exhausted, Ginny sank back into the pillows, breathing in the piney scent of Harry's silky hair. "Why do you always make so much sense? It's annoying."

"Because I'm a genius," said Harry proudly, lazily drawing spirals on Ginny's stomach with the tip of her finger. "Hey Gin?"

"Hmm?"

Harry slid up her body until they were eye-level. "They should have regaled you as a hero. You stopped him when twenty some Aurors couldn't. I'm so sorry for everything. I'm sorry you've been hurting. I don't want you to hurt."

"Don't worry," said Ginny. She grinned and rubbed the tip of her nose against Harry's. "As long as you stay with me, I think I'll heal just fine."

Her heart flipped as she was rewarded with a brilliant smile in return; it was the smile that Harry reserved only for her. She knew that her friend was beyond beautiful, but it was during times like these when it really sank in. This wonderful smile made Harry's face light up and Ginny was the only one that got to see it.

The overly possessive sensation she had experienced in the Great Hall returned in full force.

_You're mine._

_Not Ron's. _

_Not Hermione's._

_Mine._

Harry's smile widened. She leaned forward, kissed Ginny's cheek, and whispered, _"Yeah... I'm yours."_

Ginny growled playfully and rolled on top of Harry, straddling her. "I thought I told you to stop peaking into my head!"

Harry shrugged, crossed her eyes, and stuck out her tongue.

"Your powers of cuteness don't work on me, Potter! I hope your knees are prepared for the consequences!"

Harry squeaked and flailed wildly as Ginny dug her fingers behind the girl's legs. _"G-Gin! I didn't mean- OH GOD! I'm sorry! I'M S-SORRY!"_

Ginny grabbed Harry's wrists, pinned them above her head, and leaned in. "Have you learned your lesson?"

The girl's sparkling emerald eyes floated downwards, lingered, and then snapped back to Ginny's. "Erm… y-yes."

Ginny smirked at the blush that was spreading across her friend's cheeks. "Did you just… look down my shirt?"

Harry was rapidly turning the shade of a ripened tomato. "_N-No!_ W-Why would I need to? Nothing I haven't seen before…"

"Liar."

The black-haired girl groaned miserably and buried her face into the pillow. "Oh lay off. I was just… I was just _thinking_ that they got _bigger_, alright? And… _why aren't you wearing a bra?_"

"Because I was wearing your clothes yesterday," said Ginny simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I would suffocate if I tried to fit into _your_ bra, A-cup. Anyway… I don't mind that you want to look at my bubbies. They _are_ far superior to yours in every aspect, after all."

Fixing her with an annoyed glare, Harry reversed their positions by rolling on top of her. "You're a twat."

The ache in Ginny's chest tightened painfully. It had been so long since they had been able to play like this. It had been so long since she'd been truly happy. With a small sigh of content, she released Harry's wrists and snaked her arms around the girl's waist.

"I missed you so much, Harry."

Harry's miffed expression melted away. Closing her eyes, she slowly slumped forward into Ginny's shoulder. "I missed you too."

It felt like the meaning behind those simple words had changed in their time apart. It was strange. It felt like something was different… more intimate… more… _passionate_. A shiver ran up and down her spine as Harry's breath caressed her cheek. The black-haired girl was making adorable little mewling noises as she cuddled into their embrace like a pleased kitten.

_Mine._

_Your hair… your eyes… every little bit of you… is mine._

Before she could stop herself, before she could even process where the urge had come from, Ginny leaned forward, latched her lips onto her friend's neck, and tenderly began to suck at the creamy skin.

Harry squeaked in surprise and her entire body went rigid… but… instead of attempting to pull away, she _tilted_ her head to the side to expose _more_ of her neck.

Ginny moaned in dizzying confusion, shutting her eyes tightly long before the tears could spill. It felt so wrong to be touching like this, but… she simply couldn't find the will to stop. Her thoughts were racing, muddled, and murky. She was burning through nonsensical ideas ten at a time.

_Where am I? What are ghosts made of? Who am I? What's for dinner? What am I? How many Rons does it take to make bacon? _

She could feel Harry's rapid pulse through the skin touching her lips. The salty taste running over her tongue was intoxicating. It made her arms weak; it made her legs shake.

Fingertips brushed lightly over Ginny's breasts, glided down her stomach, and slipped into the waistband of her skirt.

Harry giggled quietly into her ear. "_All this time…_ I… I thought you were only teasing. But… but we're the same! You're the _same_ as me, aren't you?"

_The same?_

"I can't… _I can't believe it!_" moaned Harry, panting heavily as she ground her hips down onto Ginny's thigh. "I had hoped… but I never really _believed_ that you…"

The sensations were overwhelming. Ginny's heart was pounding away at a million beats per minute. Her body felt like it was on fire. Fingers were wiggling into her curls. Harry's warm and slightly wet knickers were sliding along her leg.

Ginny's lips popped off of Harry's neck as the black-haired girl raised her head and it was only _then_, when their physical link had disappeared, that her mind started to clear. It was only _then_ that she realized just what it was that she had done.

_No… oh no… no no no no!_

"_Ginny_…" breathed Harry huskily, her heavy-lidded eyes flooding with sparkling emerald. "I… I can't believe you want me too…"

Right as the full gravity of the words sank into Ginny's head, the fingers sliding ever deeper into her knickers made contact with their destination and circled around her center. A small explosion of vibrating, liquid heat rocked through her body, searing over every nerve, spreading bliss and oblivion to every corner of her existence.

And then…

Harry kissed her.

Ginny's eyes snapped open in shock as electricity crackled to life in her brain, cutting through the haze of pleasure like a sharp blade.

_I can't kiss girls!_

Even though her friend's full, luscious lips fit with her own like two linked pieces of the same puzzle, Ginny knew that this couldn't happen.

_I'm not… I'm not like this!_

Even though Harry tasted wonderful, like a long, cool drink of chocolate and mint, Ginny knew that this had to stop here and now.

_This isn't me! _

Tearing her lips away, Ginny unceremoniously rolled from beneath the girl's lithe body and scrambled off the bed. She was halfway through the curtain when a hand caught her wrist. _"Let go,"_ she moaned miserably, her vision blurring with hot, stinging tears. _"_Please, Harry…_ let me go!"_

Harry yanked her back to bed and pulled her into tight embrace. "_No!_ I won't! I saw it, Ginny! I saw it in your eyes! You _wanted_ me! Don't go back to the way you were._ Don't go back!_"

Ginny shook her head frantically, flinging tears in every direction as she struggled to break free. "I'm not like this! I'm… _normal!_"

"And I'm not?" cried Harry, wrapping her legs around Ginny's waist, preventing her escape. "Am I a _freak?_ You… _YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T DO THIS TO ME!_"

Ginny gasped. The walls of the Hospital Wing were closing in on her. The world was shrinking… spinning... spiraling. She needed to get out. She needed to take it back.

She needed to forget.

_Harry_ needed to forget.

She needed to _make_ Harry forget...

"_Well, go on then..._ y_ou know the spell to do it,"_ whispered a soothing, slightly squeaky voice in her ear. _"You've done it before." _

Ginny abruptly stopped struggling and, surprisingly, so did Harry. In fact… she couldn't move at all. The air had stilled. She wasn't blinking. She wasn't breathing. It was as if they were frozen in place; _frozen in time_.

"_Do it._ _You're not ready for me. You can't give me what I need; not yet. If you're uncertain, it will end… and we'll break. If you don't want that... then do it."_

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see… _something._ It was a blur of gleaming whites, shimmering blacks, and startling emerald greens.

A warm pair of lips pressed gently against her cheek.

"_I love you, Gin."_

Quite suddenly, she could move again. However, she made no effort to continue struggling against Harry's grip.

The girl pulled her down onto the bed, balled Ginny's shirt in her fists, and cried out tearfully, "You want me! You want me! _I saw it!_"

As Ginny withdrew her wand from her skirt pocket, she brushed Harry's bangs back behind an ear and smiled at her. "I… I know you did. I just… _I can't._ I don't even know why. I'm so… _I'm so confused._ I love you… and I'm sorry…"

The desperation in Harry's eyes was heart-breaking… but Ginny didn't stop. Pointing the wand at her friend's temple, she flicked it sideways and choked out the spell.

"_O-Obliviate."_

Harry's eyes glazed over and she slumped forward into the pillow.

Retraining the shaft of holly upon herself, Ginny closed her eyes and quietly repeated the charm.

"Liar."

The black-haired girl groaned miserably and buried her face into the pillow. "Oh lay off. I was just… I was just _thinking_ that they got _bigger_, alright? And… _why aren't you wearing a bra?_"

"Because I was wearing your clothes yesterday," said Ginny simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I would suffocate if I tried to fit into _your_ bra, A-cup. Anyway… I don't mind that you want to look at my bubbies. They _are_ far superior to yours in every aspect, after all."

Fixing her with an annoyed glare, Harry reversed their positions by rolling on top of her. "You're a twat."

The ache in Ginny's chest tightened painfully. It had been so long since they had been able to play like this. It had been so long since she'd been truly happy. With a small sigh of content, she released Harry's wrists and snaked her arms around the girl's waist.

"I missed you so much, Harry."

Harry's miffed expression melted away. Closing her eyes, she slowly slumped forward into Ginny's shoulder. "I missed you too."

…

…

Ginny awoke with a groan. Her head was pounding furiously. Due to the angry throbbing, it took her a few moments to think clearly and remember where she was.

_Right... _

_Hospital wing… _

_Did I doze off?_

A hand tugged on the collar of her shirt.

"Hey."

Ginny grinned and rolled on top of Harry, pocketing her wand which had somehow fallen out of her skirt. "_Hey_, yourself. I think we fell asleep."

Harry nodded. "Yeah… but you know, I reckon I'm even more tired than I was before. Feels like I've just escaped from one of Dudley's Harry-Hunts."

Ginny giggled and sat up. "Well… you _were_ essentially boiled in tea. I'd imagine that would take a lot out of you."

As Ginny finished knotting Harry's tie, Madam Pomfrey bustled in carrying a small vial of a softly bubbling potion. "Drink up, dear; _every drop_, mind you. The burn's gone, but your nerves are still damaged."

Harry gagged after knocking back the vial. "_Bloody_ hell! That tastes like curdled milk!"

The medi-witch huffed indignantly, shooing Harry and Ginny off the bed. "It's medicine, Potter, not Butterbeer. You're lucky it wasn't Skelegrow. Now off you go. I'm still tending to Mr. Malfoy."

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_Oh Sweet Merlin…_

Draco was never going to forgive Harry... _Ever_.

He moaned in anguish as he collapsed onto his bed. There was no way he'd be able to sleep tonight, for he had just been forced to bear witness to every wizard's _wildest_ dream. The imagined scene of Harry and the littlest Weasley as they tumbled about half-naked on a hospital bed was seared into his brain. That wouldn't have been such a problem for him if Weasley had perhaps resembled her rotund mother. However, loathe as he was to admit it, the redhead was extremely easy on the eyes and almost as busty as Pansy.

And that wasn't even the worst of it. To deal with the boils, the medi-witch had ordered him to strip immediately after the two girls had left the Hospital Wing. At the time, he had still been rather… _excited._

Needless to say, the humiliation was eating at his soul.

_I almost wish Pansy had just killed me at breakfast and been done with it._

Draco continued to wallow in his declining self-esteem, until he heard the curtains shuffle and felt his bed sink with weight. The scent of rose perfume hit his senses in a heady rush.

"Come to apologize, I see," he drawled sarcastically.

"Of course not," Pansy said tartly. "You got _exactly _what you deserved."

Draco sighed. He highly doubted she would feel the same way if she knew what it was that he had just overheard as a result of her attack.

"If you want something, then spit it out. If not, then leave me be. I intend to sleep though classes today."

Pansy didn't offer a reply. He heard her moving about behind him, but he wasn't at all inclined to ask what it was that she was doing so long as she didn't interrupt his rest.

All of a sudden, he heard the distinctive sound of something thin whipping through the air. He didn't even have time to imagine what was making it, before a sharp burst of searing pain exploded on his back.

"AAGGH! MERLIN'S _BLOODY_ ARSEHOLE! WHAT-"

Draco's jaw fell slack as he rolled over.

Pansy was straddling his legs. She was wearing an enticing black corset with cups that barely covered her sumptuous assets, along with a tiny pair of see-through black knickers and a lacy black garter attached to matching thigh-highs.

And in her hand… was a riding crop.

"Where in _God's_ name did you get that outfit_?_" hissed Draco, the blood draining from his face for a multitude of reasons. "What the hell is this, Pansy?"

The sultrily smirking girl trailed the leather lashes of the stout whip over her breasts. "_This?_ This is punishment for angering your mistress, manservant. I'll be gentle… _-ish_. Do try not to scream."

"Oh for fuck's sake! Are you _really_ going to_- _GAAAAH!"

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Girls were _ridiculous_; the lot of them. This was something of which he was becoming more and more convinced with every passing day.

Sidling along next to Neville, who was chatting inanely about Herbology, Ron trailed several yards behind his two best friends while they hurriedly walked down the Defense corridor. He busied himself with the buttons on his sleeve, wishing rather desperately that he couldn't overhear what they were bickering about.

"I can't _believe_ you, Mione!" hissed Harry, utterly failing to keep her voice at a low volume. "We _agreed!_ And you… you _told_ him to k-kiss you!"

Hermione's scoffed indignantly. "Oh _yes_… Only_ I'm _in the wrong! And I suppose you _weren't _going to snog him in Ginny's room that night?"

Harry turned pink. "Th-That's not the point! You've told him everything and now he knows that we… that we… _like_ him!"

"And?" countered Hermione angrily. "He deserved to know why I was upset with him! And... and when Ron and I weren't talking, I didn't have _anyone,_ Harry. I… I needed at least one friend back, so I told him the rest!"

Unable to bear it any longer, Ron yelled exasperatedly, "OI! Could you two maybe do this when I'm _not_ right behind you?"

The girls whirled on him, most likely to tell him to 'walk slower' or some such nonsense, but as she turned, Harry squeaked nervously, grabbed he, Hermione, and Neville by the arm, and pulled them into an adjacent, thankfully abandoned classroom. She slammed the door shut, dragged them to the cupboard at the far end of the room, forced them all inside, and locked it behind her with a quick '_Colloportus'._

Ron couldn't see a thing. It was pitch black. "Harry, what on earth-"

Harry clapped her hand over his mouth. "_Quiet!_ It's Dupont!"

"So what?" he mumbled against her palm.

"_So…_ I can't be anywhere near her, that's what!" she replied curtly. "I can't… _I can't control how I react_, alright? Down in the chamber… she did… _something_… and now, whenever she's near me, I just sort of…_I dunno_… lose myself."

"You _lose_ yourself?" laughed Ron, clapping his hand on what he thought was her shoulder... even though it seemed a bit squishier than normal. "What… like… _physically?_"

"Just be quiet, Ronald," said Hermione softly. "She'll be gone in a moment… Oh and that's my _breast_ you're touching, by the way."

Ron hastily snapped his arm back to his side. He was in the middle of stuttering a hasty apology, when Neville let out a loud squeak of fear.

"Nev? What's wrong?"

"_H-Hermione?"_ the boy whispered tensely. "I know this might seem like a silly thing to ask… but… there are only _four_ of us in this cupboard… right?"

"That _is_ a silly thing to ask, Neville. Of course there are only four of us."

Neville laughed wryly. "Of course… right… silly me. But… if there are only four of us, then… then why can I hear _five_ people breathing?"

A thick, _foreboding_ silence fell between them, causing Ron to shiver violently. It was clear, as clear as the sky was blue and the day was long, that in the darkness behind them, someone… or some_thing_… was moving.

There was a nasty _giggle_.

"That was _you_, right, Ron?" asked Harry in a hopeful voice, squeezing his arm rather painfully.

Ron fumbled blindly for the door handle. "Do I giggle?"

"_R-Right._ Mione? Nev?"

"N-Not me," stuttered Hermione under her breath. "_Ron_… _the door please_…"

"I can't find the handle!" he hissed back angrily.

Neville whimpered in misery. "I… I don't think there _was_ a handle on the inside."

"Oh for the love of…" Hermione shoved Ron aside. _"Lumos!"_

When his eyes adjusted to the bright light, he immediately wished that the girl hadn't lit her wand.

Not five feet away, was the most gruesome, _horrifying_ sight to which he had ever born witness. Lying _unmoving_ in a pool of blood, her chest sliced open from neck to belly, was a young girl with fiery red hair. The expression of agony on her face turned Ron's heart to ice.

It was…

It was his baby sister.

It was Ginny.

And even though someone he loved more than life itself was lying dead at his feet… that _wasn't_ the most pressing problem that he was faced with.

Ron's brain went numb as his gaze traveled upwards.

Looming above the body of his sister, wearing a blood-stained white dress and carrying a gleaming, wickedly sharp knife, stood Harry. _Another_ Harry. She was leering back at them, her eyes glowing crimson.

_Shite… it's him!_

The mirror image of his friend let out another rather sickening giggle and whispered in a silky voice that chilled him to bone, _"Would you like to play with me, Harry?"_

Ron blanched as it held out its hand, offering them what looked suspiciously like… a heart… a _human_ heart… _Ginny's _heart_._

Harry's piercing shriek, chock full of anguish, rage, and terror, rattled his eardrums. With a tumultuous _BANG_, the door of the cupboard exploded off its hinges and they all fell backwards in a heap.

Hyperventilating, Harry frantically scuttled away, stumbling over desks and chairs as her demonic counterpart emerged from the shadows. "This isn't… This isn't r-real!"

"_Oh dear… is that a no?" _asked Harrymort sadly, stepping over Hermione. _"What a pity. Ginny and I had so much… fun."_

Harry flattened herself against the far wall, huddling into the corner. "Y-You're not real! She's at Potions! Ginny's at _Potions!_"

"_Are you sure?"_ cackled the clone maniacally, dropping the heart to the floor and squishing it beneath her bare foot. _"On the contrary, I think I killed her! I think WE killed her!"_

Despite his utter horror, the gears in Ron's head began to grind rapidly.

_Wait... WHAT? _

_This isn't right_…

The image of his sister walking into the dungeons with Colin Creevey flashed in front of his eyes.

_Ginny can't be dead! We just saw her three minutes ago! _

_And… And why of all places would Harrymort be in a random broom cupboard?_

_I don't understand…_

_This is… _

…

Ron stared intently at the pair of Harrys, one smirking evilly, the other cowering in horror.

And then… as he saw the heartbreak in his frightened friend's eyes… _it clicked_.

…

_No…_

_I know what this is!_

He leveled his wand at the image and shouted with fury, _"RIDDIKULUS!"_

There was a sharp crack… and Harrymort was suddenly the size of house elf, dressed in a rather odd outfit that looked like it belonged on a clown.

Screaming his laughter to the ceiling, Ron picked himself up off the floor, ran towards Harry, and gave the tiny clown a good, swift kick, sending it hurtling back into the darkness of the cupboard.

"Oh... that was _terrible_…" muttered Hermione, quickly levitating the door back into its frame, "Goodness me_…_ are… are you alright, Harry?"

Harry pulled her legs to her chest, hiding her eyes in her knees, letting her bangs shield her face from view. "I'm… I'm f-fine."

Ron knew instinctively that she was lying. He sat down next to the shuddering girl and pulled her into a one-armed hug. "Nothing to worry about, mate. It was just a Boggart."

"A Boggart that was dealt with quite admirably, I might add," said a familiar voice from the doorway of the classroom.

Ron turned.

Professor Lupin was leaning against the doorframe and at his side was a transformed Sirius. "We heard a scream and came running. I must say… I never imagined that _kicking_ could be such an effective tool against one of the more finicky dark creatures. Well done, Ron."

Sirius… _Snuffles_… barked his agreement. Whining like he was wounded, the great black dog trotted forward and stuck his large, wet nose into Harry's curtain of hair.

The black-haired girl snaked her arms around Sirius' neck and pulled him tight. Her muffled sob of anguish was so soft that Ron almost missed it entirely.

"Why don't you three hurry along to your next class," suggested Lupin calmly. "We'll look after Harry."

Before Ron had even thought about protesting, Harry moaned and slumped against his chest, pinning him to the wall. "Stay," she mumbled possessively. "I want… I want you to stay."

He squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. "Y-Yeah. Alright."

As he said it, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione fidget rather violently. The cause was not lost on him in the slightest. He sent his bushy-haired friend a hard look that said, _'Please… don't do this right now.'_

Hermione defiantly met his gaze head on. She looked exactly as she had back in the village whilst urging him to forget about Harry: desperate, vulnerable... _and sexy_. He could see the silent plea in her eyes. A part of him wanted to do it; wanted to leave Harry behind and rush forward to capture the chocolate-eyed girl's trembling lips in a kiss. But the thought of Harry crying, looking betrayed, was akin to him mentally pummeling that urge from his head.

On top of that, Ron wasn't going to leave his best mate when she needed him; he wasn't going to leave after she had begged to him stay. The only other time he had ever seen her so scared was during the attack in the forest… and he had sworn to himself that he would never let her feel that way again if he could help it.

"You two go ahead to Herbology," he said quietly, breaking eye-contact. "We'll catch up."

Hermione made a small, dejected noise as he looked away. Not saying a word, she grabbed Neville by the arm and pulled him from the classroom.

Ron sighed in frustration and thumped his head repeatedly upon the cool stone behind him.

_Girls… are… bloody… ridiculous!_

When the door swung shut, Harry's sobs intensified. Ron could feel them vibrating in his chest as they wracked her small body.

Sirius hastily returned to his true form and pulled her into his lap. "It's alright, lass. Ginny's safe… and so are you."

Harry shivered and curled into her Godfather's arms. Even though they were no longer touching, her emerald gaze remained fixed upon Ron. She was watching him like a hawk. It was like… she thought he was going to disappear right before her eyes.

Ron reached out and lightly tweaked her nose. "I'm not going anywhere, mate. I promise."

0000

0000

0000

0000

Luna raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she exited Greenhouse Two.

"Not here either. Oh _shoes_… where _have_ you gone off to? Perhaps you've decided not to come back this time. I'd miss you dearly, you know. You were my _favorite_ pair."

Despite being shoeless, she was having a rather marvelous day. Rolf Scamander, a first year whom she had been helping categorize his various records of Hinkypunk sightings, had confessed his undying love for her in the middle of the Ravenclaw common room. While she ultimately had to reject him, seeing as how she was devoted entirely to Harry, she had found it quite nice to have a handsome young boy fall on his knees in front of her and beg for her hand in marriage.

Luna trod slowly down the path leading to the lake, digging her toes into the soft grass with every step. She could see the Giant Squid in the distance. It was swatting lazily at two redheaded blurs on broomsticks that were zooming around its head.

"_Hmmm._ Perhaps you've gone for a swim? That would be quite daring for you. You're not water-proof you know."

Luna froze in mid-stride as she emerged onto the bank. Her mouth dried out like sand in the hot sun.

Just beyond the bend in the trees, someone was humming a hauntingly familiar tune; a tune that was, to her knowledge, only known by three people… and the hummer was most assuredly female.

_M-Mummy!_

Her heart nearly bursting from excitement, Luna dashed through the shallow water of the lake and sprinted around the little peninsula of foliage.

The humming stopped abruptly.

Intelligent green eyes swiveled towards her, widening in surprise.

A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine as she reminisced upon the way she had touched herself this morning while thinking about Harry.

Feeling only slightly crestfallen that her mother had not come to visit her, Luna splashed towards the large oak tree, beneath which sat her beautiful black-haired Goddess, who was reading a thick, rather dusty book. She plopped down in front of the girl, scooting forward until her bum was resting upon her Goddess' toes.

"Hello, Harry. It's very nice to see you. I said 'Hello' the other day when I was with Ginny… but you excused yourself rather quickly to the bathroom. I was surprised... but I suspected your bladder had been overrun by Blubbering Humdingers."

"Erm… _Hello_, Luna," said Harry softly, failing obviously in her attempt to make it seem like she was _not_ obviously attempting to shimmy away. "W-What are you doing here?"

Wrapping her arms around Harry's legs, Luna let her chin fall to the older girl's knees and basked in the pleasant feel of the creamy skin brushing against her own. "_Oh… _well… I was looking for my shoes. They've been hidden, you see. It's a rather enjoyable game that my dormmates and I play. They'll steal them… and then I have to find them. It's great fun. One of their favorite hiding spots is tossing them in the lake, so I decided to come and check. But then, as I arrived on the lake bank, I heard you humming my Plimpy song. I thought you were Mummy and I got very excited, so I ran through the water around that bend there. When our eyes met, however, I knew you weren't Mummy. I was a bit sad… but then I got very aroused as I looked at you, so I decided to come over and talk."

Harry blushed and looked away. "Please… don't say things like that."

"Oh… alright then. I suppose that _was_ against the rules, wasn't it? Well, I told you what _I_ was doing here… now you should tell me what _you're_ doing here. Are you hiding from the Natterworts? I've heard that there's a _frighteningly_ serious infestation of them in the Gryffindor common room."

"_N-No_, Luna… I just… I just had to get away for a bit."

Luna didn't fail to notice the way the older girl's eyes were darting about, as if she were mapping a route of escape.

"Harry, are you thinking you'd like to run from me? I wouldn't mind, you know. I'd quite understand."

The black-haired girl made a noise that sounded slightly like a derisive laugh… but Luna knew that it was something else entirely. Daddy had made that same sound on several occasions after Mummy died. It was the sound of a very brave person trying to deal with their heavy heart.

"Hmmm, I see," said Luna sagely. "Would you like me to help you feel better, Harry? I've discovered several places on my own body that are quite pleasurable to touch when I think about you. It's _surely_ against the rules, but I'm quite positive that if you were to let me touch those places on _your_ body, I could make you much happier."

"_Please_, Luna," moaned Harry miserably, shutting her eyes and leaning backwards into the tree trunk. "_Stop it_. Please leave me alone. You can't… _you can't want to be with me!_"

"Oh… I'm quite sorry," said Luna apologetically, running her fingers along the girl's thighs, "but you see… I don't think I _will_ be able to leave you alone. Now that my Daddy is with my Mummy, I don't have any living relatives. My Godfather, Uncle Gusty, turned out to be a very mean Death Eater… and now he's in Azkaban. So you see… I'd be very lonely if I had to stop wanting you, because you're the only person that I have left to love."

"You don't… you don't have anyone to live with? That's… _Luna_… I'm so sor-"

"I've just had a marvelous idea!" she interrupted excitedly, as a light bulb flicked on in her head. "I heard from Ginny that Professor Dumbledore enchanted the room at your relatives' residence to suit multiple people. Do you think I could come live with you, Harry? That would be _wonderful!_"

"How can you _say_ that?" cried Harry, her voice rife with anguish. She squirmed out of Luna's grip and quickly stood up. "I killed your father, Luna! I _killed_ him! And… And I… I…"

Luna frowned as Harry shook her head vehemently, looking like she was trying to convince herself of something rather important.

"But… I thought You-Know-Who had taken you over. Are you saying that you _willingly_ cast the Killing Curse that hit Daddy? Harry… that would be very upsetting for me."

Harry sighed. "_No, _Luna, of course I didn't willingly… That's not what I-"

"Then how did you kill him?" interrupted Luna, feeling perplexed. "I'm quite sure that it was the Killing Curse that did it. Mummy was experimenting with it when she exploded and I recognized the spell's color. Did you know that it's the same color as your eyes?"

A pained expression flashed across Harry's face and before Luna could say a word of protest, the girl had turned and was walking briskly in the opposite direction.

"_Oh… _Harry, _don't go_. You didn't give me an answer. Can't… I…" Luna trailed off, her heart swelling with disappointment as her goddess disappeared into the trees.

_Can't I live with you?_

Sighing heavily, she picked up the copy of Advanced Occlumency that the beautiful girl had left behind. As she absentmindedly stroked the cover, wishing that the soft leather beneath her fingers was instead Harry's skin, she wistfully imagined what living together would actually be like.

'_Oh_ _Luna? could you come in here for a moment?'_

'_Oh... why I'd be happy to, Harry. I hope your wearing clothes this time. Oh no! You're not! I'm extremely shocked!'_

'_Oh... well… since you just happened to walk in when I was changing… would it be too much to ask you for a massage? My muscles are aching from all that Quidditch. I'm so sweaty and dirty and hot… and I can barely move.'_

Luna slipped her fingers beneath her skirt.

'_Oh it's no trouble at all, Harry! I'd love to. I'll help you wash yourself as well, if you'd like.'_

'_Oh, why thank you, Luna. You're so wonderful… and pretty too… just like your mother.'_

'_Oh? Really? You think so? Just like Mummy?'_

'_Oh yes… just like her. You're gorgeous. Whoever you decide to marry is a lucky soul indeed.'_

'_Oh... but Harry! Don't you see? I don't want anyone but you!'_

'_Oh Luna! I've waited so long to hear you say that. All those silly rules about girls not being allowed to kiss… they're rubbish. I want you too! Kiss me!'_

Luna moaned into her shoulder as the first wave of her orgasm hit her like a truck. This was usually where she'd stop, for she was always afraid of going that extra step and losing herself, but today… she needed more. She began to pump her fingers faster and harder than she ever had before, ignoring the urge to relax and simply ride on the wave of bliss.

'_Oh Harry! You're so pretty!'_

'_Oh Luna! Take me! My body is all yours!'_

'Oh? _Really? I can?'_

'_Oh yes! I need you!'_

'_Oh my... that's wonderful! How's this?'_

'_Oh Luna! Oh Luna! Marry me!'_

'_Oh Harry! I'll marry you! Let's travel the world! Together, I'm sure we'll find a Snorkack!_

'_Oh yes! Anything! Anything!'_

Luna bucked violently, biting down on her cloak to keep from screaming as the wave crescendoed, peaked, and broke in harmonies of pleasure that were simply too much for her body to handle.

A half an hour later, when her mind finally returned to earth, Luna realized that even if they lived together, it was highly unlikely that there would be regularly occurring bouts of interrupting Harry whilst she was changing… but it was a pleasant fantasy nonetheless.

0000

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0000

Ginny tilted her face into the scalding water that pounded down upon her body. The extreme heat helped to burn away her seething anger, which had been threatening to explode all afternoon.

Three weeks had passed since Harry's return and there was little sign that things would be changing for the better. The public outcry that had been aimed at Ginny while Harry was locked away was quickly refocusing upon the black-haired girl, tripling in its intensity. Harry had gone from being one of the most popular and well-liked girls in the school, to the most hated. Even though the proceedings of the trial had finally been reported, not a day went by without at least five students finding new ways to torment her best friend. Just this morning, Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff's _kind_ and _compassionate_ golden boy, had vanished Harry's clothes in the middle of breakfast. After she had run off, despite the fact that Cedric was one of the few individuals who had actually lost someone at the platform, and despite the attempted intervention of the teachers… Fred, George, and Ron had still taken to beating the handsome sixth-year into an _unrecognizable_ pulp.

It was like the entire school had chosen to ignore Harry's innocence and needless to say, she was crumbling under the constant baiting. On top of that, she hadn't yet been able to cast the Patronus charm successfully. She couldn't even manage a wall of silvery smoke. The constant, irrational worry that a Dementor would pop into existence in the middle of Hogwarts was eating at Harry's nerves.

Thus Ginny had spent the last three weeks watching her friend break, watching her erode into something _less_ than herself. And it _hurt_; it hurt Ginny so badly. It felt like the girl was being stolen away from her bit by bit.

Ginny had a feeling that it was going to be up to her to keep Harry on this side of sanity for the rest of the school year, but the problem was… she had no idea how to go about doing it.

As she lathered shampoo into her palm, pondering what she could do to help, she heard the bathroom door creak open. Her charm bracelet spun around her wrist to point at the blurry image on the other side of the layered glass panes.

_Harry?_

Ginny slid the foggy door sideways and peered out through the crack.

The black-haired girl was standing in front of the mirror, peering intently at her reflection. Given the pink tinge in the whites of her eyes and the puffiness of her cheeks, Ginny could tell that she had been crying.

Foregoing washing her hair, Ginny pulled a towel around her midsection and stepped out of the shower. She walked over to Harry and pulled her into a gentle embrace.

Harry jumped in surprise. "_G-Gin?_ What are you doing in here?"

Ginny laughed and buried her nose into the girl's hair. "I was in the shower, you twit. Didn't you hear the water?"

Harry's tense body relaxed in her arms. "I didn't, actually. I was… I was a bit…"

"Distracted? I could tell. Who was it this time? Romilda?"

"No."

Ginny bit her lip. "Was it Seamus?"

The girl shook her head. "No… well, I did see him out by the greenhouses… but no… I… well… it was Luna. She found me by the lake."

Ginny stiffened as a hundred different scenarios started to play out in her head, all ending with the odd blonde snogging Harry senseless. And for whatever reason, that image irked her; it irked her greatly.

"Oh… right," she said cautiously. "Well, what happened?"

Harry's chest heaved with a tired sigh. "She wants to live with me at the Dursleys. Hell… she even told me she _loved_ me. How can I… _I killed her father_, Gin! But she was… _nice_… and I… I just couldn't deal with it." Harry sent Ginny's reflection a desperate look and entwined their fingers. "I don't want to be here anymore. I want to go home. Can we go home for Christmas?"

"W-We can't," replied Ginny softly, the longing in Harry's voice tugging at her heartstrings. "Mum and Dad are going to visit Bill. And you didn't kill Luna's dad. You _know_ you didn't. Why are you still doing this to yourself?"

"You know why," mumbled Harry, her eyes welling with tears.

Ginny lightly squeezed the girl's stomach. "Are you still on about that? How many times do I have to say it? Stop feeling guilty. Merlin's pants… You're a _thickhead_ you are."

Harry's lips twitched upwards, but she didn't smile. Ginny hadn't seen her smile for weeks.

"Harry… I think you should go talk to Professor Dumbledore," she suggested earnestly, running her fingertips over the girl's arms, which were finally regaining some muscle tone. "He'll be able to set you straight. Then you'll at least be able to go to Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione without being Miss Grumpy-Face."

"I'm not going," muttered Harry stubbornly. "I want to stay with you."

"_Bollocks,"_ Ginny whispered into her ear. "You said you wanted to get your bracers repaired at Dervish and Banges. And I _know_ you're craving a bit of Honeydukes chocolate. And I absolutely _positively_ know that you want to embarrass Ron by dragging him into the lingerie section at Gladrags."

Ginny giggled as Harry turned pink. "Please go. Be happy for a day. You always look sad… and its making my chest hurt."

Harry turned in her embrace and gently rubbed their noses together. "I take it you want something from Honeydukes too?"

"Damn. You caught me," admitted Ginny, grinning guiltily. She pushed Harry towards the door and gave her a good slap on the bum as she exited the bathroom. "As many Fizzing Whizzbees as you can fit in your pockets, Potter. Oh… and… Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I _did_ mean it… please try to be happy. For me?"

"I'll try, Gin," mumbled Harry, nodding weakly as she crossed their bedroom. "But I can't promise anything."

"I know, Har. Maybe you could get Hermione to do a cheering charm. She'll understand why you need it."

Pausing at the door, Harry sent her a pleading look and whispered, "_Please_… say it."

Ginny sighed. Even though she had made her vow, Harry still pleaded for reaffirmation of the words multiple times a day. It was her drug of choice and Ginny couldn't say no, not when she knew that it was what kept Harry together day in and day out. She didn't _want_ to refuse either. She didn't want to tell Harry that she had to stop begging for the words, because it would only make her doubt them even more. Ginny knew that she was being a bit selfish, but she didn't want to see the twinge of pain in her favorite pair of eyes.

"_I love you_, Harry. I love you so much."

Ginny could almost see the words rushing through Harry's veins like a fast-acting Pepper-up potion.

The black haired girl took a deep, shuddering breath. "I love you too, Gin. See you at Dinner."

Ginny smiled warmly at her. "See you."

As the dormitory door swung shut behind Harry, Alice, who had been unusually silent these past three weeks, uncoiled from Frances' pot and hissed quietly, _"You sshould follow her, Chica. Harry sspeaker iss not hersself."_

Frowning, Ginny held out her hand for the little white snake, which slithered onto her fingers. "Hessh shiiecsseeth sshiiviath? Osshiath fiiessth hessthiiss ossafaaliiss."

"_That may be… but sshe iss a danger to hersself and otherss. You are her Ginny sspeaker. You musst follow."_

Ginny lightly rubbed the snake's chin. "Ossh facassaiith… issheth saiassiifa hossh essiss sarissiiath."

Humming pleasurably, Alice jabbed her tail rather forcefully in the direction of Harry's trunk.

Ginny grinned.

Sticking out of the corner was a sliver of shiny, shimmering fabric.

_You're an absolute genius, Alice. _

She kissed the small reptile's head and replaced it upon the windowsill. After hurriedly tugging on some mismatched clothing, Ginny pulled the Invisibility cloak from the trunk and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Siess eshiiathalith hasseefariissth?" she asked the snake, which was once again coiling protectively around Frances. "Ess esshiithloss?"

"_Yess, a banana if you pleasse, Chica... and perhapss… if it iss not too much trouble… you would bring me ssamplingss of the creaturess known ass licorice mice? They look far tasstier than the regular ssort."_

Laughing softly, Ginny slipped on her shoes, grabbed her wand, and dashed out of the dormitory. She bolted down the stairs and literally had one foot out of the portrait hole, when two strong arms wrapped around her midsection and hoisted her back into the common room.

The arms dragged her backwards and dropped her unceremoniously into an armchair.

It was the twins.

"Ickle Ginnykins isn't too bright, is she, George?"

"No… but she's definitely our sister though," replied George jovially. "A Weasley through and through: devilishly good looks, but a bit light on smarts."

Fred laughed. "Alas, brother mine, your words ring painfully true. But you'd think she would have at least learned by now to wait for the portrait hole to open while she's invisible, eh?"

"I stand corrected, Fred. _Extremely_ light on smarts."

Ginny shot a cursory glance over the seemingly abandoned common room, before giving the twins two swift kicks to the shins.

"_Oi!_ What's that about?" they chorused together, hopping away from her.

Ginny wrenched off the cloak and glared at them. "_That's_ for manhandling a lady without her permission."

"Y-You're a _lady_?" stuttered George, looking horrified. "Well butter my biscuit and call me Shirley! Fred, did you know about this?"

"It's news to me, Shirley."

"Shut it," growled Ginny angrily. "Why did you grab me? What do you want?"

"Oh… well… we simply had a feeling that you were going to follow Harry to Hogsmeade, sister dear. You two cling to each other more than _we_ do. Anyway, you'll get caught if you go out the main entrance. We know it's in poor taste to speak ill of the dead, but Dupont isn't a dunderhead like old Filch. Those smoldering eyes of hers… _they're weird_… it's like they can see right through us. Since she caught us under a disillusionment charm while we were raiding the kitchens last week, we reckon she'll catch you the second you walk past her."

Ginny scoffed. "I don't believe it! Of all people, are you two actually trying to _stop_ me from breaking the rules?"

"How dare you!" gasped Fred, looking genuinely hurt at the accusation. "To think that our own sister could suggest such a thing is simply outrageous! We only have your best interests at heart. George, back me up."

George nodded gravely. "I'm _deeply_ offended, Fred. It's like she's twisting the knife that she's stabbed in my gut."

Ginny folded her arms and glared ferociously at the twins, daring them to make another joke.

"Are you seeing this, George?" whispered Fred, aghast. "She's channeling Mother dearest!"

George cowered behind Fred, his eyes wide. "Terrifying, Fred; _utterly_ terrifying! I suppose we should get to the point before we're scolded and sent to bed without supper?"

"Oh, just get on with it," Ginny groaned exasperatedly. "If you're not trying to stop me... then I hope you're going to help me."

"Right in one, GinBug!" replied Fred, pulling from his back-pocket a crisply folded piece of yellowing parchment. "Feast your eyes upon our greatest treasure, which, after much debate, we've decided to bequeath unto you."

Ginny gingerly accepted the parchment and unfolded it.

It was blank.

"Are you having me on?"

Geoge grinned and tapped the center of the parchment with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"

Ginny's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets as lines of ink exploded outward from where the wand touched the paper. She didn't even need to read the names that appeared over the Hogwarts crest to know exactly what the parchment was.

"This is Sirius' map!" she cried excitedly. "He told me all about it! I thought Filch had confiscated it from Harry's dad when they were in their sixth year! How long have you had it?"

"Ever since our first detention," said George proudly, patting the map like a beloved pet. "Nicked it from right under Filch's nose, we did. Having memorized every inch, we've hardly had a use for it this past year, so we decided to give it back to Sirius and Remus. They were thrilled that we had found it, but when we offered to return it to them, they suggested passing it on to you and Harry instead, seeing as you two are clearly the next generation of Hogwarts mischief makers. We realized it would make a smashing Christmas present, but given that you have a need for it now… _well_… let's just say Christmas has come early. Did Sirius ever mention how to work it?"

Ginny nodded happily and placed her wand on the map. "Mischief managed."

"Excellent," said Fred cheerfully. "Now… there are plenty of hidden entrances in and out of the castle, but for illegal Hogsmeade ventures… our personal favorite is the passage behind the humpbacked witch. The clerks at Honeydukes are always too busy to notice their cellar door opening."

For the first time in a _very_ long time, Ginny pulled her twin brothers into a sincere and loving hug. "You know… this only makes up for a slim proportion of all the pranks you've pulled on me over the years… but thanks."

"No thanks necessary, Ginnykins," said George warmly, ruffling her hair. "This is what elder brothers are for… well, this and scaring off your potential boyfriends. It makes us feel like we're contributing to your growth."

"Now… to business!" Fred whirled her around and made a very grand gesture of touching his wand to both of her shoulders, as if he was knighting her. "Ginevra Weasley, we dub thee as our rightful successor! It is now thy sworn duty to go forth and break as many school rules as possible! Can we trust thee to carry out this most sacred of tasks to the best of thine abilities?"

"Aye, sir!" Ginny gave the twins a rigid salute, threw the cloak back around her shoulders, and dashed out of the common room.

With the help of Sirius' handy map, Ginny reached the third floor's hidden passageway in no time flat, having avoided several large groups of students headed for Hogsmeade that she surely would have bumped into in the process. She shuddered as she slid into the cold, slightly damp tunnel and quickly decided that, if she could help it, she would not be making a habit out of using this passage, for it reminded her greatly of the slimy walls within the Chamber.

Drying her bottom with a siphoning charm, Ginny lit her wand and set off down the long, sloping tunnel.

When she _finally_ emerged into Honeydukes, she was relatively disgusted by the number of students that were simply eating merchandise off the shelves. The fatigued, frazzled cashiers hadn't noticed in the slightest.

At the sight of Crabbe dipping his fat, sausage-fingered hand into a jar of candied jelly-slugs, Ginny's inherent Weasley sensibilities regarding theft from hardworking shopkeepers roared into life. She realized that with a dash of well-meaning rule-breaking, she could hit two birds with one stone, for she needed a way to navigate through the bustling crowd. Making sure no-one watching, she stuck her wand through the gap in the cloak and shot a nicely aimed hex directly into the boy's head. The shower of boogers and bats that exploded from Crabbe's nose did a magnificent job of attracting the attention of the entire store.

Giggling to herself, Ginny carefully slipped out of the crowded shop and began her search for Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

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Harry slumped against the fence surrounding the Shrieking Shack. She was _exhausted._ The problem with cheering charms was that once they wore off, they left you feeling _worse_ than you did to begin with.

"It's not _haunted_, Ronald," Hermione was saying huffily. "The villagers used to hear Remus screaming as he transformed. That's all."

"I'm still not going in, Mione, because unlike you, I have absolutely _zero_ interest in _'observing the damage caused to a domestic environment by an enraged werewolf because it will be fascinating,'_ thank you very much."

Hermione swelled indignantly. "Well… then we'll leave it up to Harry."

"Don't care," said Harry stiffly. "I think I'm going to go back to the dorm."

Ron gave her shoulder a cajoling shake. "Come on, mate. We just got here! Didn't you say you wanted to see the imitation Harpies' robes at Gladrags?"

Harry blushed, for that wasn't exactly the truth. "Yeah… but I don't really feel up to it, Ron."

"Would you like another cheering charm?" asked Hermione knowingly. "One more shouldn't hurt."

Harry shook her head. "_No_… I just…"

_I just want to get away. I just want to be secluded from anyone I might hurt._

"I know. Let's go for a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks," suggested Ron. "I'd wager that Sirius and Remus will probably be there. Old Snuffles has taken a fancy to following Rosemerta around the bar as a dog. He told me it's because she gives him little bowls of liquor, but it's mildly obvious that he's just peeking up her dress."

Harry sighed resignedly. Ron's effort to make her laugh was wasted. She couldn't laugh; she was far too tired and far too worried.

"Y-Yeah… _alright_. But after that, I'm going back to the castle. I've… I've got some Ancient Runes work I need to do."

"Bah," scoffed Ron, leading the way to the pub. "_Runes._ Translating pointless, outdated spell texts is _bloody_ boring; s'almost as dull as History of Magic. We don't even get to touch ward schemes until fifth year! And on top of that, Babbling's just got that droning voice, you know? Blimey… I don't think I can take another two years of the old crone. Don't know why you two like it so much… especially you, Harry. You're almost as awful at it as I am!"

Harry lightly kicked the back of Ron's shoe. "I'm only bad at it because Professor Babbling won't stop staring at me. It's _maddening_… and I can't concentrate at all. Haven't you two noticed? She does it every class… for the whole period."

Hermione and Ron both cast Harry strange sideways glances.

"Staring at… _you?_" asked the bushy-haired girl. "_Really?_ But… she barely _ever_ turns away from the blackboard, Harry."

"What are you talking about? She's _always_ looking at me… just like Mrs. Figg used to do when I played with her cats. As she talks… she just… watches me."

"I think you're imagining things, mate," said Ron slowly, pushing open the door to the noisy pub. "Mione's right. I'm dead sure she never takes her eyes off the runes on the board. I've been staring at her back for so long that I can't clearly remember her face. And who's Mrs. Figg?"

"Not important," said Harry waving him off. "But… wait… are you being serious?"

The two of them shrugged and nodded.

Harry frowned heavily as they sat down in a corner booth. She could _clearly_ see the old woman's grey eyes in her mind. They were always peering at her; always _measuring_ her. And yet… even though she could see her eyes… like Ron, she couldn't quite picture_ the details _of Professor Babbling's face.

She was jolted abruptly from her thoughts as a large, familiar back dog jumped over her legs and made himself comfortable on the bench.

"Hullo, Snuffles," greeted Ron and Hermione.

Sirius barked happily and, after a furious bout of shaking his loose fur all over Harry's clothes, he rested his head upon her lap.

"Hey, you," she mumbled softly, scratching his ears. "I hear you've been peeking up skirts. You know, that's not very gentlemanly of you."

Sirius whimpered pathetically and covered his eyes with his paws.

"Oh… I suppose I can forgive you… if you promise not to do it again."

Her godfather whined and nuzzled her leg.

"Don't let him fool you, Harry," said Remus, who had casually sauntered over to their booth. "He has no intention of stopping."

"I know," replied Harry, patting the dog's back. "But I like to humor him every now and then."

"Well… just don't let it become a habit," warned the werewolf genially. "So then, ready for our next lesson tonight? Been practicing?"

She shrugged bitterly. "What's the point of practicing? We both know I can't even make mist."

Her father's friend patted her gently on the shoulder. "Just because you can't cast the Patronus now, doesn't mean you won't ever be able to. Don't worry, Harry. It will come to you in time."

Harry highly doubted that. Whenever she performed spells, she could feel her core pulse with power. The resulting ripple of energy would rush through her body and funnel out through her wand. With the Patronus Charm… her core would pulse, but the ripple itself was blocked. It was like a link in the chain was broken.

Remus sat down and waved for Rosemerta. The buxom barmaid winked at him and approached their booth, her heels clicking deftly across the floor as she dodged around a cloaked man that was hurriedly exiting the inn. When Remus coughed pointedly, the apprehensive look she was giving Harry was quickly hidden away behind a large, coy smile.

"Well, what'll it be then, dears? Butterbeers all around?"

As they all nodded affirmatively, Sirius sat up and barked, pawing pleadingly at Rosemerta's apron.

The rosy-cheeked woman laughed and scratched the dog's head. "And another bowl for my most loyal customer of course."

As the barmaid walked away, her godfather's tongue rolled out of his mouth and he began to pant rather heavily.

Remus rapped the dog softly on the snout. "That's enough of that, Snuffles. Our old lives are long behind us. Twelve years is a lot of time… and you weren't really together for the three before it happened, now were you? It's time to move on. I'm sure Rosy has."

Sirius whined… but obediently curled up on the bench.

"_R-Rosy?"_ spluttered Ron, his ears turning pink. "Are you… Are you telling me that Si… Do you mean to say that Madam Rosemerta and Snuffles were… _involved?_"

Sirius yawned tremendously.

"Ah," said Remus, embarrassed. "Erm... yes... actually. We were in our fifth year, she was in her seventh… and Padfoot here has a complex for older women mind you. I don't know how he really managed it, but they were together right up until we graduated and joined the war effort. That was the original purpose for our map of the school you know… to allow a certain young man to sneak down to the bar undetected."

Harry closed her eyes and leaned back into the cushions of the booth. She was only vaguely listening as Remus spent a good half hour recounting tales from the Marauders' Hogwarts days. She had heard nearly all of them in much greater detail from Sirius himself. In fact, having been silent for twelve years, her godfather had told her things about his past that not even Remus or her father had been privy to. For example, he had let his friends assume that his relationship with his school sweetheart had been called off mutually because of the war… but what he had told Harry was an entirely different story.

Sirius had said that he had used the war effort as a convenient excuse to end things with Rosemerta, for he wasn't sure if he loved her or not. He had told Harry that the kindly, flirtatious woman deserved a man who could love her without hesitation and that man simply wasn't him… or at least… hadn't been at the time. He had told Harry that he wanted to become that kind of man one day: a man that could love someone with all their heart; a man like James. That was why she wasn't too concerned with Sirius' lack of gentlemanly propriety. He was simply enjoying his newly found freedom … just like any other dog would do after being confined for so long.

After her fifth Butterbeer, Harry was finally starting to enjoy herself. The miniscule buzz provided by the weak alcoholic beverage allowed her to let go of her worries and fears, if only temporarily. It allowed her thoughts to stray to more normal, pleasant things: handsome redheaded boys, beautiful redheaded girls, the massive amount of homework she had to do, what interesting method of Occlumency she would experiment with next, and… most prominently… Mrs. Weasley's cooking.

As Harry was wondering whether or not the Weasley matriarch would perhaps teach her the secrets of her many recipes, seeing as the woman's biological children were all unbelievably useless in the kitchen… the unthinkable happened.

Every single patron of The Three Broomsticks Inn, which was quite possibly the noisiest place in all of Hogsmeade, simultaneously fell silent.

Harry paled as a startling, yet familiar icy sensation slid down her spine, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand rigidly on end.

A bitingly cold mist was _creeping_ over the pub. It spread over her body, freezing her nerves and muscles in place.

Dread and panic washed over her as she realized what was happening. The veins in her temples began to pulse in unison with her rapidly beating heart.

_No… not now! Not here! I can't! I'm not ready!_

The still-corked bottle of Butterbeer in her hand shattered, for the liquid inside had suddenly solidified and expanded.

_Run!_

_Get out! _

_Get out before it's too late!_

From somewhere outside the pub, a familiar voice was shouting fervently, echoing Harry's mental self-urging.

"_HARRY!_ RUN! GET OUT _NOW!_"

Trying to block out the screaming that was ringing in her ears, trying to turn a blind eye to the images of a lifeless Ginny that were flashing through her mind, Harry threw her meager, newly-formed Occlumency shields into place and darted for the door, blatantly ignoring the protests of Ron, Hermione, and Remus.

Her breath stuck in her throat as she emerged into the freezing air. At least _fifty_ Dementors were gliding through the sky above Hogsmeade. Their loud, rattling breaths cut into her body like knives. Her very bones were vibrating with the horrid sound.

Harry pointed her wand to the sky, let the image of Ginny's smiling face fill every fiber of her being, and screamed the charm with all the resolve she could muster.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

But of course, like every other time she had attempted to cast it… the spell _failed_ miserably.

She could feel herself starting to slip away into the abyssal darkness. She could hear the sound of his crazed laughter getting closer. She could feel him reaching out to her like a child reaching for its mother.

Panicking, Harry dashed away from the pub as fast as her trembling legs could carry her and, to her horror, four of the Dementors broke from the pack, swooping after her like hungry birds of prey.

_No!_

_Oh God!_

Harry put on a burst of speed, dashing towards the edges of the Forbidden Forest to get as far away as she possibly could from any and all signs of life.

_Please! Please let me cast it!_

Aiming wildly over her shoulder as she ran, she shouted the charm for a second time.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

Nothing.

Even while she was running, she could tell that she was slowly losing consciousness. Her eye-lids were becoming absurdly heavy; her muscles were stiffening and locking into place. The only thing that kept her running was adrenalin and fear.

As she leapt over a tree root, one of the cloaked creatures swept past her, mere inches away from her skin. The cold was overwhelming. Her legs gave way as she landed and she tumbled to the hard earth, limply rolling over the dead leaves like a sack of potatoes.

She gasped weakly as the four demonic shadows loomed above her. She could feel the emptiness inside them. It was as if they were vacuums; hungry mouths that never ceased feeding. They were sucking him out of her; pulling him to the surface.

Harry's vision tinted red. The screams were getting louder, reverberating around her brain as if they were being shrieked directly into her ear.

One of the Dementors raised its scabby, decaying hands and lifted the shroud that hid its face from view.

As Harry gazed into the depths of the gaping hole in the creature's skeletal head, she felt the thin box in which she had secured her mental corridor collapse.

The world slowly darkened.

_Where's Dobby? He's supposed to be here! He's supposed to… He's supposed to…_

She was falling… _sinking_. Voldemort waved at her cheerfully as they passed each other by.

_No… I… I won't let this happen!_

_I won't!_

_I WON'T!_

Although she could no longer _feel_ her muscles, she _begged_ her arm to place her wand to her temple. She begged her mouth to form the words.

And thankfully, both of her body parts obeyed without question.

"_In…"_

"_Incendi…"_

"_Incendios Gr-"_

"NO!" screamed a desperate voice of protest. "I WON'T LET YOU!"

From out of nowhere, a solid, yet slightly-squishy object slammed into the side of Harry's face. Her neck twisted unnaturally from the blow, but it was the resulting burst of pain that brought her back to her senses.

Her vision began to clear. She could smell strawberries.

A pair of blurry, gold-flecked, amber orbs floated in the darkness above her. They looked vaguely like live snidgets and Harry wanted nothing more than to reach out and catch them.

Hands grabbed the collar of her coat and shook her roughly.

"You _promised_ me, Harry Potter! Every year… September First… we run through that barrier together."

"G-Gin?" she mumbled softly. "Are you… Are you really here?"

"Feel my heart… I'm here…"

Something was thudding beneath Harry's fingertips. It was small and fluttering, yet warm and bright as well. She wanted to follow it out of the darkness.

"I'm here, Harry. Come back."

Harry flipped Voldemort the two-finger salute as he passed her by once more, this time sinking back into the shadowy depths from which he came. A bitter, enraged expression was plastered across his snake-like face.

It was Ginny's smile that she saw first… and a Dementor's scabbed mouth that she saw second; it was only inches away from them.

Harry didn't bother picturing her happiest memory; she didn't need to. She could feel it; she could feel Ginny's love pouring into her through their embrace. Shoving her wand into the abyssal hole, she repeated the charm for a third time.

"_Expecto… patronum..."_

A ripple of blissful power erupted from her gently thrumming core, gathering at the tip of her wand in a brilliant ball of silver light that illuminated the Dementor's skull like a candle within a jack-o-lantern.

The shadowy creature screeched in defiance as the light exploded outward.

Harry gasped as an enormous, silvery stallion burst from her wandtip and trampled the cloaked monstrosity into the ground. It pranced about wildly, bucking and kicking at the Dementors, driving them back.

Ginny too raised her wand. Even though Harry had explained the theory of casting a Patronus to her best friend, she was still amazed as the redhead performed the charm successfully without any practice. The shimmering silver animal erupted from her wand's twin and Harry, at first glance, thought the four-legged creature to be another horse, albeit it being considerably more massive. However, when it lowered its head and _gored_ two of the creatures with a silvery pair of what could only be antlers, she realized that Ginny's Patronus was not a stallion… but a stag.

Harry smirked with satisfaction as their happiest memories worked together to _viciously_ batter the Dementors into the air. She imagined that if the wretched creatures could indeed feel pain, then they were surely experiencing quite a bit given the size and ferocity of the silver animals.

Finally, with a keening, defeated wail, the four shadows ceased in their attempts to reach Harry and streaked away over the treetops.

The stallion and the stag cantered back to the ground. The horned animal nuzzled Harry's cheek affectionately while her horse did the same to Ginny.

"Why is yours cuddling me?" asked Ginny, holding out her hand for the stallion to sniff.

"Maybe it likes you as much as I do," suggested Harry breathlessly, slumping backwards onto the ground in exhaustion. "I can't believe that Dobby didn't come. He's always around when I _don't_ need him, so why the _bloody hell_ is he not here when I actually do?"

"I don't know… there's probably a reason," mumbled Ginny happily, slowly untangling their limbs. "But… _Harry_… you were _smiling!_ It's been three weeks since I've seen you smile."

"That's the first time in three weeks that I've had something to be happy about," whispered Harry quietly, finding Ginny's hand and entwining their fingers. "How did you get out here? How did you find me?"

The redhead tapped Harry lightly on the nose. "Do you want the long version, the really long version, or the extremely long version?"

Harry giggled. "I'll take the shortest version you've got right now… and the longest version when my brain starts working again."

"Hmmm. Shortest version, yeah? Alright… here goes. You sad. Alice worried. Me cloak. Me follow you. Twins catch me. Map to secret passage. Me use charms to find you. Me wait outside pub. Dementors appear. Me shout. You run. Me follow but you're too bloody fast. You trip. Dementors surround you. Me watch you try and kill yourself. Me punch you in the face as hard as I possibly can… which you _entirely_ deserved, by the way. And then… you were you again."

"Is it strange that I completely understood that?" asked Harry tiredly, rubbing her thumb over Ginny knuckles. "And that punch _really_ hurt you know!"

"Good." Ginny rolled on top of her and pinned her arms to the ground. "If you _ever_ try and kill yourself again, _I'll do worse_. Do you understand me?"

Harry nodded, but added cheekily, "But… what happens if I _do_ end up killing myself?"

Ginny growled angrily. "That's _not_ funny! If you do, I'll come after you and make your afterlife _so_ miserable that you'll plead for mindless oblivion!"

Grinning, Harry pulled her friend into a bone-breaking hug. "_M'sorry_. I'm just teasing you because… well… I feel happy again. I can't _believe_ you came after me, Gin. I had… I had lost hope for a moment."

"I'll always come, Harry," whispered the redhead, the sharp tone in her voice falling away. "Just like you did for me in the Chamber. No matter where you go, I'll _always_ come. I'll go with you anywhere and everywhere… and I'll always wait for you if you get left behind."

Quite suddenly, Harry was besieged with the strange urge to pull her hair aside as Ginny's breath tickled her neck, thus giving her friend better access to her skin. It was a ridiculous notion and an utter fantasy to think that if the redhead perhaps kissed at her neck accidentally, she would magically start liking girls. But for some reason, Harry still wanted to try it… _just once._ It simply… seemed like a good idea, if a tad illogical.

Just as she was pushing her hair to the other side of her neck, Ginny gasped and sat up.

"Oh no_…_ _Harry…_ I've just realized… They must have been after Sirius!"

All thoughts of snogging and how enjoyable it might be if the curvy girl on top of her hadn't been wearing clothes were brutally beaten aside by the impending implications of the statement.

Harry scrambled to her feet. "You don't think he… do you?"

Bust she knew by the hard gleam in the redhead's eyes that Ginny _did_ think that.

Harry did her very best to ignore the nauseating knot of fear that was coiled tightly in her stomach and tugged on Ginny's hand. "Then let's go and find him, yeah? Can't leave him on his own… he'll peek up Rosemerta's skirt."

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From the ridge above them, he watched the two girls, accompanied by their large patronuses, walking hand-in-hand back to the village. Trembling with fear, he released the elf from its magical binds, wiped its memory, and apparated away to face his punishment.

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The grumbling from the surrounding Circle members was tumultuous.

As was his right whilst commanding the floor, Albus raised his hands into the air, calling for silence. This meeting was the last of the Winter Solstice. He had to convince them. It had to be now, or half a year would pass before his next chance arose and a full year would pass before he would be able to perform the ritual. With every passing day without a soul to guide it, Tom's magical core would become less stable, less recognizable. The memories of his imprint would gradually fall apart, eventually making their retrieval and reconstruction impossible. He wouldn't be able to scry the body… and all hope would be lost, for Gellert had made sure that this was the only available option to discover the secrets of Lord Voldemort.

**/FLASHBACK/**

Albus frowned into his tea.

The trail of memories revolving around Tom had gone cold. Someone was dusting it away... and he had a fair idea of who that someone was. Borgin was dead. The Ministry Records of the Aurors that had dealt with the Gaunts had disappeared. The memories of Hokey, Morfin, Tom's fellow orphans, and the villagers of Little Hangleton had been entirely erased. There existed in Britain an entire town that didn't know who they were, or where they had come from. Needless to say, the muggles were in an uproar, tossing blame left and right.

Albus was still attempting to locate Horace, the only teacher Tom had been open with while at school, but he had a feeling that his former colleague had met the same fate as the villagers.

_Gellert… Why must you go to such lengths? Why must you complicate my ordered world?_

Trilling in quiet lamentation, Fawkes leaped from his perch and flew gracefully to the arm of Albus' chair.

Reaching out, he stroked the bird's fiery plumage. "No… No, it's my own fault, Fawkes. I was greedy. I only wanted to see him… to let him know that I hadn't forgotten… but in doing so I gave him the will to escape. Escape he did and now he's ten steps ahead of me. You know, that was always the case when we were lads. I may be the stronger... but he was far cleverer than I."

The phoenix nipped his finger sharply and glared at him, as if to say, _'Yes, thank you, I know. I was there, after all.'_

"Quite right, old friend… Quite right. However, understand that barmy old codgers such as I do little but reminisce upon their younger days. Now… back to the perch… we have a guest."

There came a diminutive knock at the door as Fawkes soared across the room.

"You may enter, Harry."

The petite girl slipped inside the office without her customary, 'Thank you, sir.'

Although the expression on her face was that of weariness and fatigue, Harry looked quite healthy physically. An abundance of color had returned to her skin, the bags beneath her eyes had vanished, and she seemed to be approaching a healthy weight.

"Would you care for some tea?" asked Albus, conjuring her an especially happy chair that he hoped would cheer her up.

Harry shook her head softly and sat down.

"Well then, how may I be of service to you, Harry?"

Looking at everything but Albus' eyes, she whispered as if they weren't the only people in the room. "I… I think you should put me back in that cell, sir."

He had to admit, her response wasn't entirely unexpected. "Oh? And why do you think you deserve such a cruel fate?"

"Because I'm going to kill someone, if you don't," she mumbled morosely. "As much as I want to be here… with my friends… with Ginny…. eventually, I'm going to kill someone. It's getting easier and easier for him to reach out to me. And also… I can't cast the Patronus charm. I can't even make silver mist! The Dementors are everywhere, aren't they? If I meet one, I'll… Please, sir. I don't… I don't want him to gain control again!"

Albus smiled sadly. The child was far too easy to read. "Ah… I see. So… it isn't because you believe that you are somehow at fault for the deaths at the platform? It doesn't have anything to to do with the fact that you believe you need to be punished for enjoying the sensations of dark magic?"

Harry winced at his every word.

He could almost see girl's emotional barriers crumbling. "You can be candid with me, Harry. I _do_ know the details of Severus' actions on the night of your return… even those of which I would rather not be aware."

"I _killed_ Luna's dad," exclaimed Harry bitterly, "but she doesn't blame me at all! She wants to live together! She… She wants to be my _girlfriend!_ I saw Seamus crying this morning. I'm the reason his Mum is dead! I took away their parents… just like Voldemort took mine! _I killed them_… and a part of me enjoyed it! I just… I'm not strong enough to look them in the eyes! I'm not strong enough to be here anymore! I'm not strong enough to do what you need me to do!"

Albus sighed, leaning back into the comfort of his chair. "You know, Harry, I often wonder why magic exists in this world. For what purpose does it serve? No one _really_ knows for sure. All we do know is that wherever there is life, there is magic. Vast currents of magic swarm about this planet because so many have lived, died, and passed on, releasing their energies into the world."

The girl stared blankly at him.

Chuckling, he popped a Lemon Drop into his mouth. "Yes… that _did_ seem rather off topic, didn't it? Allow me to explain. All living things that are self aware have an innate drive to survive; an innate drive to adapt. It is a widely held belief that this drive was magic's beginning; that magic's sole original purpose was to fulfill our needs for survival. To put it simply, it is quite natural to enjoy casting magic in all its forms, because at the heart of all intelligent life, there is a desire for the power to persevere… and magic _IS_ that power, Harry. It is power in its most _undiluted_ state. It satiates our most basic of needs. There is no reason to feel guilty for enjoying the physical and mental harmony casting magic brings. Despite the despicable intent required to wield it, I myself find that the Cruciatus Curse, the effects of which I find more horrific than any other spell, is quite enjoyable to cast. Knowing this, Harry, you must ask yourself, is it the _effect_ of dark magic or the _casting_ that you enjoy?"

"The…the casting," she squeaked meekly. "But-"

Albus held up a hand to stop her. "Then, as I can see the truth in your eyes, I must respectfully decline your proposal to lock you away."

Harry sat silently, staring intently at her shoes. He could see the cogs and gears grinding in her mind; he could see her making her choice.

"A-Alright," she muttered finally. "But… Ginny…"

"Love is a double-edged blade, child. It is quite easy to sacrifice doing what is right in concern for those we hold dear, but I continue to have faith that you will make the right choices. I continue to have faith that you will be courageous."

The girl's eyes burned with desperation. "I'm not courageous… _I'm frightened._ I'm so frightened I'll give in to the dark and hurt her!"

"And that fear, Harry, is the reason that she is all the more protected." Albus offered her a Lemon Drop with an air of finality. "Now… is there anything else I can help you with? If not, I suspect you'd want to hurry along. Your first Hogsmeade weekend awaits you."

Harry bit her lip… but sighed in quiet resignation. She excused herself politely and made to leave. However, when she reached the door, she hesitated and turned back.

"Sir, if I ever lose control and can't be brought back… will you kill me?"

He smiled reassuringly at her. "No, Harry, I will not. I will never give up hope and leave your soul at Tom's mercy."

Lightly reaching out, he soothed the roiling emotions in the girl's mind, suggesting to her unconscious that it would be absolutely wonderful if she could calm herself and enjoy the rest of the day.

Harry frowned, but nodded tersely and slipped out of the office.

Placing his teacup on its saucer, Albus gently addressed the empty room, "It is taking every _ounce_ of my restraint not to tear into your mind and finish our first duel, Gellert."

The answering chuckle made him shiver. He could see within his mind's eye the walking corpse his love had become; not quite alive… yet far from dead; a soul trapped in a decaying body held together only by willpower and the laws of alchemy.

The invisible man conjured a chair in the corner and presumably sat. "And yet… I wonder, Albus… wouldn't the result of our battle be the same? Would you be able to face me again? Would you be able to tear my mind apart, reducing me to an obedient slave, or would you flee in terror, unwilling to venture into the scene of Ariana's death?"

"My fears are irrelevant," said Albus sharply. "If you do not cease your efforts in halting my investigations, I _will_ take action, regardless of my distaste to do so. I _must_ discover Tom's secrets, Gellert. I _must_ find his horcruxes! The future of this world depends upon it. For you to hinder me… you are being extraordinarily cavalier with countless lives."

"Don't bother appealing to my newfound sense of guilt," replied Gellert casually, as if he found their conversation tiresome. "I want his memories, Albus… I want his history scryed. I will not let you take another path apart from the one I have chosen. It is all for the Greater Good."

Albus sighed. "Can you not _hear_ yourself? Can you not see that you are reverting to your old ways? You had _repented!_ You had cleansed your soul! And now, once more, you are willing to put innocents in harm's way to achieve your goals. Did I not assure you that this quest would drive you to madness?"

"You know nothing of madness!" replied Gellert angrily, the echo of his deep voice sounding thunderous as it bounced around the office. "You… _the victor_… have lived your life in comfort while I wasted away in Nurmengard. The _labyrinth_… so many times I traversed its complexity. It burned their faces into my gaze. _Millions_… every single face… I know _every_ detail! The mind cannot comprehend such quantity! _No…_ I _alone_ know madness! All others, including you, are but babes in their understanding of delirium!"

"I do not need a maze of sorrows to show me their faces, Gellert," said Albus wearily. "I have always ached for them with all my heart. It is why I strive to protect this world with every fiber of my being. It is why I must stop Voldemort, for he will wreak havoc far greater than you or I ever could. It is why I will even go as far as to _beg_ you to reverse your memory charms."

"Not even if you beg will I comply," replied Gellert laudably. "Do understand that I'm simply ensuring that things go my way. You should be quite familiar with the concept, mein liebster; you, who sees the world as a chessboard."

Albus removed his spectacles, cleaning them on the edge of his robe. "You know, Gellert, I barely recognize you anymore. You have twisted yourself into such a base form of life, driven only by your desire to unite the Hallows. What I don't understand is why you _still_ believe they will grant you the power to manipulate the world as you see fit; why you s_till_ believe that they are relics of death. I know that you have perused Harry's memories. _Surely_ you have seen that they are but ancient creations of a single man?"

There was a soft rustling of robes. A quicksilver hand appeared in the air over the seat of the chair, clutching in its fingers a small, silver pendant etched with an archaic design.

"Do you know what this is, Albus?"

Albus frowned. "Yes… you told Harry that it was an ancient Portkey that allows you to pass through wards. I admit… it irks me that such an object exists. I shudder to think of the repercussions should it to fall into Tom's hands."

"Oh… fear not. I have no intention of letting the little snake obtain my treasure. Nor do I believe he could even land a curse while I command its power. I move with but a thought." Gellert slid his silver fingers over the chain. "It's a curious little thing," he mused quietly. "When I think upon it, I realize that the probability of one such as me finding it was so infinitesimally small, that chance alone could not have brought it across my path. Apart from yourself and Gregorovitch, I was likely the only person alive who would be able to recognize it for what it was. Truly… only fate could have made it fall from Borgin's pocket. Reach out your magic, Albus, and take a glimpse into my world. Reach out… _touch_ it."

Feeling somewhat curious, Albus did as he was asked… and nearly fell from his armchair in shock.

"_Yes_," laughed Gellert. "I had a similar reaction. You can _feel_ it, can't you? A _fourth_ Hallow! A _core_, Albus! An inanimate object with a magical core! I had always assumed in my time wielding the Elder Wand its power, the s_ame_ power that lies within this pendant, was the power of Death. _But now we know better!_ They are the creations of man; one, _single_ man! After young Potter had her encounter with the fragment of memory in Herpo's throne, I naturally grew intensely curious about his character. Ashurbanipal, Timbuktu, Alexandria, Pergamum... I raided the Great Libraries one after another, finding nothing. And so… feeling frustrated… I entered the _Crepusculum Fornicis._"

Despite his considerable age, Albus still managed to leap from his chair in panic. "You _opened_ the Twilight Archives! _Gellert!_ Do you not know the_ evil_ that resides-"

"_Calm_ yourself! I am not so _foolish_. The demon within Merlin's library remains contained. You forget… I am the owner of a charming little Hallow that lets me go where I please, regardless of wards or barriers. In fact… I have seen _all_ that the Department of Mysteries has to offer. I would highly recommend that you too venture into its depths. It was most… _enlightening_. Your beloved Master Nicolas has been keeping so _very_ many secrets from you, Albus."

Gellert sighed. "Alas… that's beside the point. In my rather daring perusal of the Archives, I discovered that Herpo was once hailed as one of the greatest Masters of Creation magic ever to live, for the items he created were truly magnificent. As you know, there are no records detailing the lost art's methods. It is passed from Master to Apprentice only by an Unbreakable Vow of silence."

"Are you going to tell me that Merlin was a Creation Master?"

"No... but neither was he a fool. Arthur's sword, the sword that united England, was born from it, and thus he remained ever wary. He kept a close watch on the known practitioners of his time and began theorizing in a number of volumes upon the nature of their magic, ultimately suggesting what I believe to be a rather logical description of its practice. Merlin observed that the items born of creation magic could do any task the maker set to them, no matter how impossible, because they had within them _a sacrifice _of magic; they contained _pieces_ of the makers' core. With each successive object, the creator appeared to grow weaker. Merlin discovered that the ultimate goal of the Creation Master was to deplete themselves of magic entirely by dividing their core into seven vessels. With _seven_, separate, _identical_ cores, whoever possessed all of the vessels would be able to tap into the world's currents of magic and command them as their own."

"And yet, to Merlin's knowledge, no creator had _ever_ been able to rid themselves of their final reserve of power; no one was _ever_ able to create more than six vessels. But Potter saw him do it, Albus! _Herpo_… faced with imminent death… he _emptied_ the last of his magic into that throne! Potter _felt_ it pouring out of him! He was a Master of the highest caliber… it is ludicrous to think he had not yet created six vessels after two-thousand years. I am sure that throne houses a piece of his core!"

Gellert laughed madly and continued. "_Seven_ Hallows, Albus! Imagine it! With seven Hallows, we will command the magic of life itself! Five are already at our fingertips, leaving two more that we have yet to find. And… I believe I know how to locate them. I am a _truly_ brilliant man who spent forty years of his life devoted to the study of black magic. I have never understood how Riddle became _equally_ knowledgeable in a mere _eighteen_ years. But then it struck me. Potter saw Slytherin pleading with his teacher for a pensieve containing the secrets of creation magic. Herpo went on to indicate that there were many aside from the one his student sought."

Gellert began to whisper excitedly. "I could only conclude that Riddle made it his mission to find and absorb the books of his forefathers. Each and _every_ one. It makes sense, does it not, Albus? Although a man like Riddle would not have found merit in the idea of sacrificing his own power, I have no doubt the he absorbed the secrets of the lost art! Even if he doesn't know the exact identities of Herpo's vessels, there is sure to be some hint in that pensieve that will let us discover them!"

With every passing word of Gellert's long, impassioned rant, Albus' heart had crumbled away, piece by little piece. He had lost what little faith he had left in the man.

"So that's it, Gellert? You will use Tom's scryed history in the slim hope that it will lead you to the these long forgotten relics? You will hinder Voldemort's speedy defeat because you believe in the conjectures of a crotchety old wizard whose one and only love was conjecture itself? You realize that there is no guarantee that the Circles will ever agree to my proposal?"

Gellert chuckled. "Oh… they _will_ agree, old friend! Do not fret."

Abus glared bitterly at the empty chair. "You can't _possibly_ know for sure. Within a year, scrying Riddle will be impossible, the alterations made to your victims' memories will be irreversible by even your own hand… and I shall _never_ discover the horcruxes. Voldemort will become _eternal_ because of _you!_ Millions… _billions more_… will die in agony… because of you!"

"Because of _us,_ Albus! We are a pair, you and I. The men responsible for the _bloodiest_ war humanity has ever seen shall become either the saviors of this corrupted world… _or the destroyers_."

"Your delusions of grandeur continue to amaze me," said Albus, inconspicuously drawing his wand. "You realize, of course, that I shall never go along with such a plan. Even if you _were_ to obtain six Hallows, you will _still_ lack the power of the Elder Wand. Wands never again fully heed their defeated owners. Even if you were to win it or steal it from my possession, its true loyalty would not return to you, Gellert."

"As I have said," hissed the invisible man, "it will not be _I_ that unites the Hallows. It shall be _you_."

"Then… I must enquire… How do you intend to fit yourself into the equation?"

Gellert sighed. "This body, despite my strength and conviction, is steadily failing. When the time comes, we shall join together in the fashion of Riddle and Quirrell. _Together_, we shall dip our hands into the magic of life. _Together_, we shall lead this world to the Greater Good! Should you refuse, I will kill Harry Potter… and I know how much you need your prize pig for the eventual slaughter. I'm rather curious as to why you continue with the charade of bolstering her hopes, when you intend for her to die anyway. Is it simply because you believe that she'll take Riddle with her? There is no doubt the girl is powerful; perhaps the strongest of all your pawns. She is truly a fist-sized gem among a sea of tiny, dull pebbles. With the proper training, she might even go on to become a leader of the Circles. And yet, compared to Riddle and ourselves, she is _nothing_. Wir sind _Erdrutsche_, Albus… We are_ mountains!_ Your miraculous capacity for hope is _blinding_ you to the truth! He _will_ kill her! She _will_ die in the end! In fact… she _must_."

"Yes…" agreed Albus slowly. "Harry will die. Even though it is not set in stone, I have faith in the prophecy. I have faith that Harry will bring about Tom's end and if we are lucky, return to us through the magic that tethered her to life in her first encounter with death."

"You are a _fool_, Albus! That connection _must_ break!"

Albus' anger flared. Without preparation or forethought, he whipped his wand upwards, releasing the _Lux Argentus_ in all its considerable power, aiming for the small medallion in Gellert's quicksilver hand.

He hadn't really expected the man to allow the spell to land upon its target.

The blinding lightning surged over the silver pendant, crackling and buzzing with ferocity… but it didn't fade. The spindles of white light became gold, solidifying into a thin beam between Albus' wand and the necklace.

Gellert roared with deep, rolling laughter as beads of light budded in the center of the beam. "Here is your _proof_, Albus! Priori Incantatem! Magical twins forced to do battle! I shall achieve all the desires we once had as boys! The seven Hallows will be ours!"

The golden beads of light rushed along the length of the beam and slammed into the empty chair, obliterating it completely.

**/END/**

Albus gazed hard at his fellow Circle Members, silently willing them to understand the gravity of their situation.

If this was now his only option… he would pursue it to the best of his ability.

"Hear me, friends! This is our last chance to halt the very darkest of men from gaining eternal life. I beg of you… lend me your power. Trust in me just this once. I give my solemn vow not to abuse the magic gifted me. I give my solemn vow that I shall not use your magic for any purpose other than the required task."

Vlad, the withering Russian vampire who comprised the entirety of the Second circle, walked onto the floor. "Dumbledore, I speak for all of us vhen I say that it is not your credibility that vi are concerned vith. There is no doubt that these _horcruxes_ must be identified and found, but this is not the vay to go about it. You ask for too much. This council is comprised not only of teachers such as yourself, but also of the leaders of entire countries... entire _races_. Vi are the guiding lights of our people. Should you lose control of our combined power, should you make a single mistake in the reconstruction, vi vill lose our magic and our sanity. The effect of that loss upon the magical vorld vould be devastating. You ask us for the impossible."

"I assure you that there is no other way," argued Albus calmly. "We must strike while Voldemort is at his weakest. If action is not taken, the imprints in his younger form's core will corrode and there will be no stopping him. No matter how many times he is defeated, Voldemort himself would never _truly_ die. It may take him multiple resurrections and _hundreds_… maybe _thousands_ of years, but eventually, he _will_ conquer and enslave this world."

As another outbreak of loud, dissatisfied grumbling washed over the council chamber, a hand fell to his shoulder.

Nicolas had ventured onto the floor.

"Yield to me, old friend. It's long past time that I open their eyes."

Albus gazed quizzically at his snowy-haired, former teacher. He wondered what more the man could add, but he acquiescently nodded and returned to his seat.

The Masters quieted one by one upon seeing who it was that stood in the chamber's center. In the disguise of the venerable, slightly senile Jackson Smith, Nicolas rarely chose to command the attention of the Circles. To do so now was shocking; considerably more so given the serious, foreboding expression that creased his handsome face.

When the chamber had finally fallen silent, Nicolas spoke, his deep voice crackling with disdain.

"In the twelve-hundred years I have spent among this council… I have _never_ seen such _cowardice_ from its members. You _shy_ from the chance to preemptively avert _eons_ of suffering, simply because you are concerned for your own _worthless_ lives! You will not act for the future of your people? You will not act for your families and friends? You are deluded if you believe a man like Voldemort would be satisfied with Britain alone. He will come for you! His war will spread across the channel to France and Germany, growing in both size and ferocity. The rest of Europe will fall like dominoes. The Americas will be a pit stop for his growing empire and after that, the thinly-spread African and Asian wizarding communities will crumble beneath the combined might of his forces. I guarantee that the world will _burn_ if Lord Voldemort is given free reign. Let me _remind_ you that he is _more_ powerful than any dark-wizard that has ever lived; stronger than Grindelwald, stronger than Slytherin, stronger even than _Morgana_ herself. Let me _remind_ you of his rise to power in which he demonstrated that both his cruelty and ability dwarf that of his predecessors."

Nicolas flourished his staff and a pink mist swirled at his feet. The mist rapidly spread and took shape, forming shadowy faces that screamed in the throes of death.

"My comrades of old, _legendary_ wizards and witches, fell beneath the wands of Salazar Slytherin and his followers. _Countless_ lives were lost in a war that raged for half a century. _Imagine_ what the world would be like if _Salazar_ had been immortal. Imagine what the world would be like if we had not stopped Grindelwald's Dark Reich from sweeping over the planet. _Imagine the chaos._ An _eternal_ Dark Lord set upon world domination! _That_ is the impending reality we are faced with. It is _laughable_ that you believe the impact of losing the members of the Circles would be more detrimental to your nations than the creation of a _world-wide_ dark empire ruled over by an immortal dictator. It is _laughable_ that you would not risk all to prevent such a fate. I call each and every one of you a _coward_… and I am ashamed to call you my fellow Masters of Magic!"

An old, bearded Goblin, decorated with copious amounts of gold upon his person, raised his voice above the disgruntled murmurs and mutterings of the Circle members. "A most _humbling_ speech, Master Flamel. It is true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is a severe threat to this world. I myself fought against the thousand-strong army of Inferi that he single-handedly rose in order to overthrow Gringotts during the war. But I ask you… what is the point of risking ourselves to destroy these horcruxes, when You-Know-Who cannot be defeated by even our most powerful? If Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore can only duel the Dark Lord to a standstill, what chance do _lesser_ wizards have to stop him? Even if we _were_ to make him mortal, who could _possibly_ end his life before he has a chance to split his soul once more?"

"_Indeed,"_ cried Nicolas energetically. "Who could do it? Knowing that there would be no chance for their survival, what fearless soul would face the darkest wizard to ever live?"

Nicolas turned to peer directly into Albus' eyes.

"As you all well know, the information shared within this chamber is bound directly to our souls. If one were to share such information with another who is _not_ a member of the Circles, their life would be ripped from their body, no matter the circumstances. With this warning freshly renewed within your minds, I trust that my comrade will deign to answer your question. Dumbledore... the prophecy, if you please…"

Albus paled. "_No_… Nicolas, it's far too dangerous to-"

"You ask them to trust you, _boy_… but it is _you_ who lacks trust!" The white-maned man slammed the butt of his staff onto the ground. "_The prophecy_… let it be heard!"

A grumbling of similar sentiment was echoed by several members of the various Circles.

Albus fretfully scanned the eyes of the crowd, all of which were now focused solely upon him. He remained doubtful that this was the wisest of ideas… but Nicolas, alas, was right. He could not, in good conscience, ask these men and women to give him their absolute trust, when he himself was unwilling to reciprocate the gesture.

Standing slowly, he drew his fingertip across his forehead and pulled from his temple a single strand of silver. He let the glowing string fall to the center of the chamber's floor. The runes around the circular slab of marble flared with blue light and the floor itself became suddenly transparent. The scene of Albus' memory materialized directly beneath Nicolas' feet. It rather shocked him that the dingy rooms of his brother's tavern looked even shabbier than recollection served.

"Yes! Yes… quite a lot of experience," said the image of a nervous, obviously lying Sybill Trelawny. "Just last month I predicted the theft of Adbar Ahkmed's renowned magic carpet!"

"Most amazing," said his younger self pleasantly. "Yet… I was under the impression that Adbar was still in possession of said carpet."

Trelawny's face fell. "But don't you see? Due to my prediction, Mr. Ahkmed's resulting increase of security scared the thief off!"

"Ah… _yes_… of course. Well, I must say, this has been a _most_ enlightening interview, Miss Trelawny. I especially enjoyed your ominous readings of my tea leaves. I shall contact you if you're needed to fill the position."

'W-Wait!" cried Trelawny anxiously. "I have several more methods! I haven't even used my crystal ball!"

"I'm afraid that's all I have time for today," said Albus' memory-self, smiling benignly. "I have yet another interview for a replacement Potion's Master in just under half-an-hour so, unfortunately, I must take my leave. Good day, Miss Trelawny. It has been… _a pleasure_."

Albus could almost remember the feel of the shiver that had run down his spine upon first hearing the woman he'd dismissed as a fraud rasping and gasping for breath as her rich, grandiose voice turned hollow and horse.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark the child as his equal, but the child will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... __and they shall walk side by side to death's door for neither can live while the other survives__... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._"

The scene faded and the marble floor rematerialized.

Whispers of disbelief flooded the chamber.

"Yes," said Nicolas softly, raising his hands for silence. "It speaks, of course, of Harriet Lily Potter, the very child whom Voldemort unknowingly turned into a horcrux. We must take action now not only because it is the right thing to do, but because we _must_ give Miss Potter her chance before it is too late. Even though prophecy is never set in stone, the girl's fate is already sealed. I have lived for nearly two _millennia_, my friends. Throughout these many long years, I have learned that only _one_ truth is universal: that the lives of those bearing the lightning-scar are always _irrevocably_ short. Some simply meet with misfortune soon after they are imbued with another's tainted fragment of soul, yet the majority find themselves cut down by the forces of light due to their ever-darkening natures. To my very extensive knowledge, of all the _children_ that have born the scar since the ritual's origination, and there have been quite a handful, by the age of twenty, only _two_ had not succumbed to the darkness of the horcrux within them. One was a young Seer from Nazareth… _crucified_ by Muggles when he was only thirty-three. The other, whom I knew well, was a boy from Verona, an alchemist's apprentice, who committed a joint suicide with his lover at the ripe age of twenty-two. I assure you… Harriet Potter is not long for this world. We _must_ allow her the chance to fulfill the prophecy! We _must_ discover and destroy Voldemort's horcruxes _before_ she inevitably loses her life."

Albus stared warily at his once Master. He had _never_ spoken of horcruxes with Nicolas in such depth. Indeed, it seemed as if the man knew considerably _more_ about the subject than he did.

Gellert was right.

Nicolas Flamel _had_ been keeping secrets from him… and Albus was slightly fearful of how many more there might be.

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**There you go… a nice, long 28k word update.**

**Next chapter will close out PoA.**

**Reviews, especially helpful criticism, are appreciated for both feedback and motivation.**

**Plenty of new art sur le blog.**

The huge blocks of text in last segment are obviously important.

I chose the wording of the altered prophecy _very_ carefully.

Were the dementors there for Sirius? Hmmmm.

Keep in mind that JKR's Merlin is not a legend, but a real man and an important part of wizarding history. He is an exceptionally powerful wizard from medieval times that the wizarding world still reveres to this day, but that's it. He's like… I don't know… Richard the Lionheart. I like to imagine him as a crotchety old man who was rather fond of books... a bit like the Merlin from Disney's The Sword in the Stone.

I was laughing the whole time I wrote Luna's verbal erotic fantasy. I hope you were too.

Religious allusions:

In the Potterverse, it is perfectly logical to assume that muggle religions, including all the miracles associated with them, are based on accounts of actual events that occurred in wizarding history. Harry Potter is not the second coming of Christ, no matter how similar their stories may be. JKR did an excellent job of being vague in terms of religion amongst wizards, in order to avoid controversy. I'm sure some of you are reading extremely deeply into this chapter. Let me just say that, like JKR, I do not plan on factoring aspects of _ANY_ religion into the story; I'm simply borrowing tidbits of literature and legend that coincide with where I want the plot to go.

Why such a small piece of Voldy has such a strong effect on Harry:

I am particularly aware of the decreasing size of soul fragments. A large part of the story is affected by it. The idea for the diary fragment I portrayed (young riddle with Ginny) was gleamed from the image of the baby inhuman voldy (1/64th soul) in the DH kings cross dumbles encounter. In canon, each horcrux becomes progressively less human and less powerful. The ring (1/2) kills. The diary (1/4) actively possesses against one's will. The locket (1/8) influences emotions and contains the creepy shadow thing that ron stabbed. The cup and diadem (1/16 and 1/32 respectively) have unknown effects. The 1/64th soul fragment is attached to harry's soul directly and gives him his visions along with pain in his scar. CanonHarry is completely useless at mind magic, while in my story, Harriet is gifted with AND susceptible to mind magic. If you haven't figured this out, the Petrifying dream is a mental-magical reflection of the soul-fragment's presence. After her visit with Ollivander, it began to manifest through her extreme fear of her magic, which is what caused the initial dream on the train. When Harry experiences the dream all the way through after coming out of the coma, the weak soul fragment is able to break down her natural mental barriers and slip through the cracks, taking control. Harrymort has little power of its own; it simply uses Harry's. I hint with both Harry's Lumos and Tom's perception of her power in the second book (miniature sun-sized core) that she is exceptionally more powerful than a normal witch or wizard (lumos is a steady glow). However, Dumbledore (a vast overpowering ocean of magic), Tom Riddle, Herpo the foul, Slytherin, Merlin, Flamel, etc etc wizards of legend, are on entirely different off-the-scale levels.

Sidenote: While all questions are encouraged, if one more person that is up to date with the chapters asks me _seriously_ if this is going to be a soul-bond fic, I'm likely going to go spare and murder all the main characters in a squicky, bloody, death orgy of truly _epic_ proportions. It will be so **_horrific_** that the infamously gory fic of legend in which Lucius Malfoy partakes in _detailed_ relations with the eye-socket of Draco's decomposing corpse will, in comparison, seem like it is appropriate for readers that are K-.

A soul-bond is, in my opinion, a rather _dull_ plot-device that is used to create events that lead to poor excuses for romance. Love _based_ upon a connection that is out of one's control doesn't really seem like love at all, does it? So, for the last and final time, there is _NOT_ a connection between Harry and Ginny that _results_ in them loving each other. There is _NOT_ a connection that _keeps_ them loving each other. There is _NOT_ a connection that binds them together because of mate-selection, or destined love, or fate, or some other such tripe. While this story quite obviously involves souls, love, and magical connections... nothing is binding them together except their feelings for each other. The magical benefits of their connection adhere solely to Potterverse lore. There will be no mind reading, or sharing power, or feeling what the other is feeling, or any of that ridiculousness. I always write with this in mind. For example, in this chapter, Ginny's ability to bring Harry back from Voldemort's control isn't magical at all. Harry feels the _reality_ of her happiest memory. She feels the _reality_ of the love that surrounds her and lets that take her out of the darkness. Try to look at things from a different angle while thinking about who Harry is and what she craves. Remember that the only magics we see in the canonPotterverse that deal with souls are related to... what two things?

… _Take a guess._

For those faithful readers that have made it this far and actually care about my author's notes:

We have a long road ahead of us in A.B.E., so here is a little snack to nibble on while you travel with me through my story. It's a simple thank you for all the wonderful feedback.

Here it is… the _ultimate_ spoiler... which isn't really a spoiler at all until you've read the entire story.

The final chapter of A Butterfly Effect is rather predictably titled:

_Forever and Ever._


	24. Chapter 21: The Oncoming Storm

Yes, the wait was long. Luckily, you'll be getting two chapters in the span of a few days!

About Death in A.B.E: Once you die, you're dead. But before you die, **there's always a choice** to be made: you can linger (ghost), or you can go (dead).

But… what if you're never given the chance to make the choice? Did you really die at all? Or… what if you're standing on the shore between life and death, tempted but unable to step into the water? Where does the choice lie? In the sand? Over the dunes? Knee deep in the water?

If you're disgustingly confused, reread chapters 7, 14, and 16. Don't ignore the notes, but do ignore the many grammar and spelling mistakes that I haven't gotten around to fixing. Anyway, that should clear things up… but only if you're wearing your imagination boots, metaphor caps, and simile pants (you might even want to throw on some conjecture socks for good measure).

So, here we go. I never imagined when I started writing this that I'd have so many readers. Thanks to all.

P.S. This chapter is full of squiggly goodness.

**Chapter 21: The Oncoming Storm**

_Death __is but crossing the world, as friends do the seas; they live in one another still._

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The mighty sound of rolling thunder shook the walls of the Shrieking Shack, making them creak and groan ominously. Maelstrom winds battered fiercely against the decrepit house, howling through the gashes that Remus' claws had once inflicted upon the wood.

Sirius hunched into his ragged blankets as a particularly strong gust blew a sheet of icy rain into the parlor.

"This is worse than having fleas," he muttered bitterly to Remus, who was stoking their meager fire with a poker. "Couldn't we put up a shield?"

"We're in hiding and on the lookout at the same time, Padfoot," said the graying werewolf wearily. "If anyone were to notice an Impervious charm above the shack, we'd be detected."

"It's all well and good for _you_, Moony," Sirius grumbled indignantly. "You're almost immune to the cold. _Merlin's pants!_ What I wouldn't give to be a werewolf tonight."

A flicker of rarely seen anger flashed across his gentle friend's face. "Yes, Sirius, because a keen nose and ambivalence to chillier climates are _certainly_ worth having every bone in your body shatter once a month as you turn into a curse-ridden monster; those little gifts are _certainly_ worth seeing the fear and disgust on a friend's face when they find out what you are."

Sirius quickly held up his hands in apology. "I was only joking! But… you're right, of course. It was thoughtless and I apologize. You know better than anyone that all my jokes, if not horridly awful, are consistently inopportune."

The spark of rage in Remus' eyes slowly fell away and he visibly sagged with exhaustion. "I… I know you were joking. You just… hit a rather sensitive nerve. I suppose all my nerves are sensitive these days. Ever since Lily and James… well, let's just say that my sense of humor isn't what it used to be."

"Aye," agreed Sirius morosely. "I swear, Moony, when I find him…"

Remus nodded and sank backwards into his armchair, rubbing his eyes with his large hands. "I too share the urge to take revenge… but… I don't think I could do it… nor do I think I should."

"Don't you worry," said Sirius, closing his eyes and thinking of the family he had lost. "You won't even have time to consider making the choice before I _end_ him. James and Lily wouldn't want me to kill Peter in revenge… _no_… I'm going to do it for Harry. I need only to picture her face to find the resolve. _Her eyes_, Remus… they don't look like a child's eyes should. They should be full of laughter and joy and hope, but in those green orbs, all I see is the misery of starvation. She's so rabidly hungry for love; love that she was wrongfully denied; love that _I_ should have been able to give her. I couldn't thanks to Peter and _t__hat's_ why I won't hesitate."

The werewolf's intelligent gaze swiveled towards him. "That's still revenge you know; revenge for _you_; revenge for your guilt."

Sirius pounded his fist on the table angrily. _"So what? _For twelve years I believed that he had been tortured into submission! But no! He _carries_ the Mark! He served _willingly!_"

"You know… I don't think he did. Even though the nature of the mark requires loyalty… I don't think he saw taking it as a choice; more like it was something he _had_ to do."

"There's _always_ a choice," growled Sirius.

"Is there?" asked Remus plainly, jabbing the smoldering firewood in contemplation. "Is there _really?_ Even for a man like Peter?"

The werewolf's stony expression softened. "I've been thinking often upon our school days lately. Those four… Harriet, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione… the closeness they share reminds me of us in our youth. I knew Peter _so_ well, Sirius. To be sure, his confession to you was riddled with lies… but parts of it ring true. He always did put himself first… and I accepted that; I accepted that he was entirely self-serving. None of us were without our flaws: I was intensely overbearing, James was as arrogant as they come, and _you_, my friend, were and always will be an obnoxious trouble-maker that has _severe_ issues with authority. And yet… our friendship held strong in spite of it all."

"No… _it didn't_," spat Sirius bitterly. "He as good as told me that we weren't his friends… merely his _protectors_ from Malfoy."

Remus shook his head. "You see,_ that_ I don't believe; not for a second. We were too close. I could _always_ see the fondness in his eyes whenever he looked at James and Lily; I could always see how grateful he was when I read to him. And the way he followed you around the school? He _worshipped_ you, Padfoot. He knew everything about you, including your penchant for constant conversation. I'd wager that Peter thought that if he kept talking that night, you would listen, rather than kill him outright."

"He _betrayed_ me, Remus! He framed me!"

"Yes. Yes he did. But… ask yourself this: if Peter wasn't your friend, then _why_ did he apologize right before he tossed his wand?"

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but the words stuck in his throat as the question really sank in. He didn't like to admit it… but Remus had a point.

"Don't you see?" continued the werewolf sadly. "He didn't turn up at Godric's Hollow that night to assure his safety. That's completely illogical and Wormtail was anything but. He had taken the mark. He _knows_ that there's nowhere on this earth that Voldemort would not be able to find him. No… Peter appeared at Godric's Hollow to _mourn_, Sirius. He appeared to say goodbye to his friends."

"HE WENT STRAIGHT TO THE DARK LORD!" cried Sirius in disbelief. "HE WENT STRAIGHT TO VOLDEMORT NOT A WEEK AFTER WE HAD SWITCHED KEEPERS! YOU CALL THAT _FRIENDSHIP?_"

Another roar of thunder rolled over the Shrieking Shack, vibrating the foundations.

"I call that inevitability," muttered the werewolf when the rumble finally died away. "Peter's brain just isn't wired for self-sacrifice. I can almost see the wheels turning in his head, Sirius. The war was only getting worse and we were losing. Spies, both voluntary and imperiused, were everywhere. We had already lost really. Thinking he wouldn't be any _real_ use to either side given his power level, he secretly took the mark to ensure his survival, no matter the war's outcome. And then… when you decided that Peter would be a better choice for Secret Keeper… his life was forfeit. Had he protested, we would have found the Mark. Albus would have had him locked away for the rest of his days given all that he knew about the Order. Had he run from Voldemort, he would have been found and killed. His only choice was to accept and resist the Dark Lord's Legilimency prowess. I'm relatively impressed he lasted a week."

Sirius leapt up, temples pounding. He was furious not with Remus, but with himself; furious because he had let someone _else_ bear the burden that should have been his; furious because someone was implying what he had known all along.

_Lily and James are dead… because of me. _

"You know that's not what I meant," said Remus perceptively. "I'm merely stating that I understand _why_ he did what he did. Peter was _indeed_ in the wrong, but I don't think _we_ should be the ones to dole out his punishment. He's the same man we knew in our school days; he's the same self-serving boy we accepted as our friend. Who are we to pass judgment?"

"Who better to do so than his _friends?_" growled Sirius harshly. "Who better to do so than those closest to him; who better than those he hurt the most?"

Remus sighed and pushed the newspaper across the table. "I'm not going to pick a fight with you, Padfoot. Sit down. Drink some tea. Read a paper. It's going to be a long night and an even longer storm."

Wanting nothing more than to continue arguing, Sirius reluctantly sat and tugged his rain-splattered blanket back around his shoulders. Anger slowly ebbing away, he dragged the offered Daily Prophet into his lap and disinterestedly flipped through its pages, scanning the headlines.

**BLACK AND LUPIN WORKING TOGETHER**

**THE HOGSMEADE TRAGEDY; THREE LOST SOULS REMEMBERED**

**A RITA SKEETER EXCLUSIVE: CAN POTTER MASTER THE MADNESS WITHIN?**

**DEMENTORS: SCOURGE OR SECURITY?**

**MINISTER REASSURES PUBLIC THAT DEMENTOR DISPATCH WAS ORDERED TO SEARCH FOR SIRIUS BLACK ON ANONYMOUS TIP**

**ROGUE DEMENTORS DEPORTED TO WILDS IN VENEZUELA**

**ENQUIRY INTO DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT YIELDS CONVOLUTED STORIES; EVIDENCE OF FOUL-PLAY?**

**LOCKHEART'S ****NAPPING WITH NUNDUS**** FLIES OFF THE SHELVES**

**SUCCESS OF BEAUXBATONS-HOGWARTS EXCHANGE PROGRAM INSPIRES FRENCH DEPARTMENT OF INTERNATIONAL MAGICAL COOPERATION TO HOST JUNIOR QUIDDITCH OPEN THIS SUMMER TO PROMOTE FUTURE INTER-SCHOOL RELATIONS; **_BEUAXBATONS ACADEMY, DURMSTRANG INSTITUTE, HOGWARTS SCHOOL, SALEM CONSERVATORY, ZANJIRI COLLEGE, AZTLAN UNIVERSITY, AND THE SHANGDU INSTITUTE HAVE CONFIRMED THEIR PARTICIPATION_

**WEREWOLF ATTACKS ON THE RISE; POSSIBLE UNDERGROUND REVOLT**

Sirius' eyes flitted briefly over the last article. "Good Lord! A werewolf revolt; haven't had one of those in years. I see that you're the suspected figurehead, Remus."

"Cheers," replied Remus expressionlessly. "If you're done, toss that rubbish in the fire. The air _is_ getting a bit chilly... even for me. The ink should help the flames along nicely."

Sirius balled up the paper and lobbed it into the grate. "I'm sorry for getting you involved in all this, Moony. You shouldn't have fought with me when I transformed. It's ruined your good name."

The werewolf smiled wryly. "_Nonsense_. I never had a good name to begin with. Besides, I wasn't going to stand idly by and let the Dementors take you."

Sirius withdrew his wand and wearily siphoned the water out of his wet blankets. "I've told you… they _weren't_ after me. They weren't after _anyone_... and that's what really irks me, for they definitely had an objective. The way they swooped down upon the innocents in teams; I've _never_ seen rogue Dementors so coordinated. It was like they had been _ordered_ to attack... but not to attack specifically."

"It did seem that way, didn't it?" mused the graying man. "I know what you're suggesting… given the way they avidly chased after Harry… but I don't think Fudge would ever go that far to get her back in a cell."

"I don't know," murmured Sirius, running his hands through his hair. "It just doesn't sit right with me that a horde of aimless Dementors appears not thirty minutes after she openly admits in the middle of a crowded pub that she can't cast the Patronus charm."

"Three villagers were kissed, Sirius. Add on the casualties that Harry could have inflicted had she turned in the middle of the bar and it just seems preposterous. Fudge may be power-hungry, but I highly doubt he would risk having something like that traced… back… to…"

Remus' trailed off, his slouched, relaxed posture becoming suddenly sharp and attentive.

"Moony?" probed Sirius lightly as his friend's nose began to twitch. "What's wr-"

The werewolf held up a hand to silence him, his gray gaze darting fervently around the walls of the shack as he daintily sniffed the air.

Sirius tentatively mimicked him, but he couldn't detect anything apart from the pungent odor of damp, rotting wood.

"It… It _can't_ be," croaked Remus brokenly, his eyes steadily widening. "He's supposed to be…

"Supposed to be what?" asked Sirius in a hushed voice, casting a suspicious glance towards the fake front door. "Is someone outside_?_ _Is it Peter?_"

"_No,"_ breathed Remus, shaking his head slowly. "Down in the pub… He's supposed to be dead. Mad-Eye said he finished the job… but I can smell him; I can… I can _hear_ him. By God… it's_ Greyback!_"

"Greyback!" hissed Sirius anxiously, leaping out of his chair. "_Remus!_ If you can hear _him_… then-"

As another booming peel of thunder shook the house, the rancid stench of sweat mixed with alcohol assaulted his nostrils, making him gag.

"Then I can hear _you._ Hello, lads. Long time no see…"

Sirius instinctively dove sideways over the table, barely avoiding the flash of green light that blasted away half the mantle. Grabbing Remus by the collar, he blindly tossed a cutting curse over his shoulder, turned on the spot, and disapparated.

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Harry smiled giddily into the back of Ginny's neck as the redhead unwrapped her Christmas present and withdrew the black stone that lay inside.

"What is it?" asked Ginny curiously, running her fingers over the smooth, polished surface.

Harry squeezed the girl's waist and whispered, "Close your eyes. Picture the Burrow in your mind."

Ginny cocked her head curiously, but obediently shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

Harry's grin widened as the swirling mists inside the stone solidified, portraying in their depths an image of Mrs. Weasley bustling noisily about the kitchen.

"Now open them."

Ginny's breath hitched and she dropped the stone in surprise. "Merlin's balls! _Harry,_ is this… is this a _Looking Glass?_ How did you… They're practically _priceless!_"

"It wasn't priceless. It had a price… and I paid it. The look on your face is a bit priceless though."

"_H-Harry…_" groaned the redhead, leaning backwards into her embrace. "I can't take this. It must have cost more than ten Firebolts combined!"

"But I want you to have it," replied Harry softly. "Think about it. Whenever you're feeling lonely, you can just look into the stone and find me. I've keyed it to myself and your Mum already, but it can keep track of about twenty different people. That's your whole family! And you don't have to worry about seeing things that either you or the person being watched wouldn't want you to see. It's got several complex empathy charms that help it filter out things like that. Also, if the person being watched agrees, you can remove the restrictions. I've already done that for me… because I want you to be able to see me anytime you need to."

Sighing resignedly, Ginny turned and clambered into her lap. "Thank you. I… I love it. I do. I'll use it all the time. But… you can't keep buying me things like this."

"Actually, I c-"

Ginny nudged her shoulder roughly. "I don't mean you don't have enough money. I mean you shouldn't be buying me such expensive gifts."

"Money doesn't mean anything to me," whispered Harry, fiddling with the shiny red hair that was splayed over Ginny's shoulder. "You know it doesn't. This year… I just wanted to get each of you something you'd really like. I bought Ron his replica Chudley Cannons robes and I bought Hermione that set of Every-Spell encyclopedias she's been eying for years. How expensive they were or weren't had nothing to do with it."

Ginny sat back and used a finger to brush Harry's bangs out of her eyes. "That's not the point, dummy."

"Then I don't understand what the problem is," she muttered, feeling confused. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

Leaning upwards, she nuzzled the girl's cheek with her nose. "Don't make me read your mind… because you know I will."

Pushing Harry back into the pillows, Ginny collapsed against her, mumbling unintelligibly into her chest.

Harry giggled as the vibrations tickled the skin beneath the fabric of her shirt. "Sorry. I didn't catch that."

Groaning softly, Ginny nestled her chin in the indent of Harry's small bust and grumbled brokenly, "I said… I said that I'll never be able to give you _anything_ like this. I'm… I'm _poor,_ Harry."

Just as Harry was about to reply, there came a gentle knock at the door.

"Harry? Ginny?"

Feeling slightly put out by the way the redhead rapidly scurried away from her at the sound of Hermione's voice, Harry answered stiffly, "Come on in, Mione. It's open."

The dormitory door swung inwards and their bushy-haired friend stuck her head around the frame. "Happy Christmas, you two!" said the girl cheerfully. "Ron and I are heading down to breakfast. Would you care to join us?"

Harry shot a pointed, sideways glance towards Ginny who was staring blankly at the Looking Glass. "You and Ron go on ahead. We'll catch up in a bit."

Hermione nodded in silent understanding and quietly shut the door.

As Harry knew Ginny was unlikely to be the one that resumed their interrupted conversation, she slinked across the bed, pressed herself into the redhead's body, and touched her lips to Ginny's bare shoulder.

"You know… nothing I buy you will _ever_ be able to outshine what you give me."

"Bollocks," Ginny mumbled beneath her breath, her eyes watering ever-so-slightly.

Harry kissed the shoulder again, enjoying the faint taste of strawberry on the girl's skin. "It's not bollocks. Brooms, quills, fancy stones… they don't matter. Because I have the means to do it, it's _easy_ for me to share everything I have with you. It's easy for me to buy you whatever you want and that takes away almost all the meaning. That's why I try so hard to get you something you'll love and use, because it _still_ won't be able to show you how I feel. But… it's not like that for you. It's not easy for you to share, but you do it anyway. It's not easy for you to give, but… you do it anyway. Do you see what I mean?"

Ginny blinked out a tear and shook her head.

Harry grabbed the green, hand-knitted scarf that the redhead had made for her and brushed the droplet away. "When I see this scarf, I don't really _see_ a scarf. I see how hard you worked to get it to look nice, even though you're utterly _horrid_ at knitting. When I see our charms, I don't just see _bracelets_. I see the hours it must have taken you to make them. I see you accepting me. I see how much you love me. Gin, you have so little… but you _still_ gave me exactly what I wanted. You gave me a family. You gave me… _you_."

Ginny rubbed furiously at her eyes and finally turned to look at her.

Harry's heart soared as the blazing amber gaze bore into her, filling her with a warmth that made her toes tingle. In that shining moment, it felt like she could have cast a hundred patronuses… and that was quite something considering she couldn't perform the spell at all without Ginny touching her directly.

"I love you," Harry whispered, placing one last kiss on the girl's shoulder.

Giggling and sniffling simultaneously, Ginny pulled her into a hug and mumbled, "I love you too, you sappy twit. And I really do like the Looking Glass. I'll spy on you _all_ summer."

"Fine by me," laughed Harry, bouncing out of the bed. "Come on. I want Christmas Pudding!"

"Hold your horses, Piggykins. I need a shower."

As Ginny walked past her, a sharp slap cracked across Harry's arse.

"Ouch!" she squeaked, rubbing her backside indignantly. "You _bint!_ What was _that_ for?"

The redhead grinned at her. "I am _not_ horrid at knitting."

At breakfast, Ron, who was actually _wearing_ his new Cannons' robes, pulled Harry into an enormous, smothering hug as she sat down next to him.

"Harry, you're the best bloody mate a bloke could ever want!"

Harry sighed and sank into the side of Ron's broad, firm body. "I'm glad you like them. Although, I _really_ hope you're not going to wear them like this all the time, because I don't think I could walk through the halls with you anymore. I get enough attention as is without having a supporter of the worst team in the League strolling along next to me."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that and continue enjoying my bacon," replied Ron, ruffling her hair good-naturedly before returning to his food.

Harry chatted idly with Hermione about the new encyclopedias while working her way through three helpings of Christmas breakfast. For the first time in months, she felt absolutely wonderful. Not even a ten-hour detention with Snape would be able to spoil what was turning out to be one of the best days she'd had all year. Last week's raging thunderstorm had steadily tapered away to snow, ensuring that they would be having a beautifully white holiday season. No one was berating her or sending her dirty looks. The majority of the Slytherins had gone home for break. She was finally caught up on months of missed lessons. And to top it all off, she was surrounded by the three people that she loved the most whilst filling her belly with every delightful breakfast food under the sun.

Harry was sure of it; nothing was going to ruin her Christmas.

"Ex-Excuse me," stuttered a vaguely familiar voice. "Ginny… could I have a moment?"

Harry swiveled, a spoonful of plum pudding frozen halfway to her mouth.

Michael Corner stood next to their bench, his dark, messy hair shielding his downturned eyes from view. The slim, third-year Ravenclaw was fiddling nervously with a purple box tied shut by a gratuitous amount of white, frilly ribbon.

"Oh… hello, Michael," said Ginny, her ears turning the faintest shade of pink. "Happy Christmas."

The pale boy flipped his hair backwards and flashed Ginny a brilliantly white smile that Harry thought looked rather cheesy. "Thanks… you too. Well, I just wanted to… I was just wondering if I might have a word… in… in private."

Ginny nodded softly and stood to follow Michael out of the Great Hall, but not before casting a quick, sideways glance in her direction. Harry didn't quite recognize the look in her friend's eye and she found that rather unsettling; long had she believed that she knew Ginny's every expression intimately.

As the pair slipped through the large oak doors, Ron nudged her shoulder and whispered, "What do you think that's about? Isn't he the one that Ginny is always saying looks a bit like a male version of you? I don't see it, personally."

"Me neither," grunted Harry quietly, tearing her eyes away from the door. "I've seen him waving at Ginny in the halls over the past week… but I don't know him very well. The only real class we have with the Ravenclaws is Charms and he always sits in the back, reading the Mad-Muggle comics."

Hermione, quite obviously having caught their every word, leaned in and said excitedly, "I've seen them making small-talk here and there. I can't say that I know him well either, but I suspect he's going to give her a Christmas present! As to the resemblance between the two of you, Harry, I think Ginny must mean that your hair is rather similar. I suppose that your eyes are the same shape as well."

"My hair doesn't look like that!" protested Harry, feeling slightly offended. "It's a different color and it's… it's not all… all… _floppy!_"

"Why would he be giving her a Christmas present though?" asked Ron, suddenly deadly serious. "They can't possibly be _close_ friends; we'd know about it, wouldn't we? Do you… Do you think that box is another cursed package?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't be _silly_, Ronald. _Surely_ you've noticed that your sister is rather… pretty?"

"Ginny? _Pretty?_ What are you…" Ron's expression darkened as he trailed off. "Wait a tic. Are you saying that he's… that he's…"

"Interested in her?" supplied the bushy-haired girl helpfully. "It wouldn't surprise- Ron! _Where are you going?_"

The redhead had leapt out of his seat, sending his plate flying into Neville's lap. With a scowl smeared across his face, Ron scrambled over the bench and stalked towards the double doors, his bright orange robes billowing magnificently behind him.

Hermione looked to Harry expectantly.

"Why do _I_ always have to be the one to calm him down?" muttered Harry, poking at her eggs. "_You're_ the one that riles him up, Mione. Besides, I think he's got the right idea."

Sighing in exasperation, Hermione hurried after Ron, leaving Harry alone to stare hollowly at her half-eaten plate of breakfast.

No one needed to tell _her_ that Ginny was beautiful, because she had _always_ thought so. No one needed to tell _her_ that the redhead's body was curvier than that of an average thirteen year old girl, because she felt it for herself every night when Ginny pulled her close. No one needed to tell _her_ that boys were going to be physically attracted to her friend, because Harry herself shared their attraction.

And yet… it _still_ bothered her that Michael had openly made an approach.

Ginny had told her on several occasions that she thought the boy was rather handsome and given the way Michael's eyes had wandered, Harry could tell that he reciprocated the sentiment.

While her brain was telling her that it was commonplace human behavior, Harry simply didn't want to believe that two people would want to be together based on looks alone. As she was ready to offer all the love she had to give, she didn't want to believe that Ginny would willingly choose such a shallow relationship with a random boy over a nurturing one with her.

She didn't want to believe that the girl would never see her the way she wanted to be seen.

She didn't want to believe that the two people she wanted more than anything _both_ wanted to be with someone that wasn't her.

_What does Michael Corner have that I don't?_

_What does Hermione have that I don't?_

Wallowing in her self-pity, Harry proceeded to eat breakfast alone. Yet right as she finished her last scrap of toast and made to stand, a warm body leaned against her back, pushing her down onto the bench.

"Hello, Harry. Would you like me to cure you of your Nargle infestation? Yours looks quite serious. They always get worse around the holidays you know."

Harry grinned despite her misery. "No thanks, Luna. The Nargles and I are bonding."

The odd blonde slid into the seat that Ron had vacated. "_Oh?_ That's _very_ tolerant of you. Most people see Nargles as a pest, but I firmly believe that we can live together harmoniously."

Giggling, Harry turned around… and nearly had a heart-attack as she took in the small Ravenclaw's appearance.

Luna Lovegood was dressed in the full regalia of a Santa Claus, beard and all.

Needless to say, Harry's good mood returned in full force.

Luna smiled dazedly at her. "Oh my… the Nargles seem to be vacating your ear canals of their own volition."

"Yeah, well, not much up there right now," replied Harry, gesturing vaguely at her head. "I suppose I was boring them."

The blonde nodded happily and poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice.

As the silence between them began to stretch, Harry's guilt flexed its muscles threateningly, but she didn't give it an inch of leeway. She wasn't going to give in today; not on Christmas.

"Luna…" she mumbled slowly, attempting to use the image of Ginny's smiling face to clear her mind of all unpleasant emotions, as per the instructions in her Occlumency book. "I'm so sorry about the lake. I'm sorry about everything really… especially… _especially_ your father. I hope you understand why it's still hard for me to be around you when I'm feeling overwhelmed. It's not because I don't like you. I like you very much… and that makes it even more difficult."

Despite their dreamy quality, the girl's cloudy blue eyes twinkled intelligently from beneath the white, bushy eyebrows she had spell-o-taped to her forehead. "Oh yes. I understand, Harry. Although, I'm very glad you're not running away from me at the moment. It's quite pleasant."

Swallowing the hard lump that had formed in her throat, Harry continued. "And… maybe by the end of the year I'll be able to… I mean… well, if you haven't found anywhere to live by then, I wouldn't mind having you stay with me for the summer. I do have quite a bit of newfound space."

Luna's breath visibly hitched.

"If you want to, that is," Harry added quickly. "I can't… I can't guarantee that it will be pleasant to live with me."

The girl offered no reply… which was odd; odd even for Luna. In all the time Harry had spent with her, not once had the blonde been rendered speechless. The way she seemed to be staring at nothing in particular suggested that her attention was clearly elsewhere.

Harry waved her hand gently in front of the Ravenclaw's glazed eyes. "Luna?"

Luna snapped back to reality. "Oh dear… I'm quite sorry, Harry. I was daydreaming, you see. It was a rather wonderful fantasy."

The girl leaned into Harry's side, ensnaring her in a soft embrace.

"And… And I'd like to live with you very much."

Harry smiled nervously as Luna hugged her. "Erm… alright. I'll ask Professor Dumbledore for permission. Anyway… I have nothing to do and no one to talk to. Would you like to come up to the Gryffindor dorm and play Exploding Snap? Also, I don't know if you've already heard about Neville's plants, but I think you'd be interested in meeting Frances."

Neither Ron, nor Hermione, nor Ginny had returned to the common room by the time they reached it, so Harry decided to spend the rest of Christmas morning with Luna. If the girl really was going to live with her, Harry knew that learning to acclimate herself to the knot of pain and guilt that arose in her stomach whenever the blonde looked at her was paramount. And she had a feeling that the only thing that would help her achieve that was direct exposure.

"Do you enjoy Potions class?" asked the blonde whilst thumbing through a pile of Harry's third-year spell books.

Harry looked up from her Occlumeny text. "Not particularly. Professor Snape delights in being cruel to me."

"Mmmm. I suppose that _would_ ruin one's learning experience. Professor Snape seems like a very complex man. I'm quite sure that he enjoys the company of Nargles, because they follow him wherever he goes. Perhaps he too believes that our societies can live together in peace."

As the day wore on, Harry slowly began to realize why Luna was in Ravenclaw. Despite her airy-fairy personality, the girl's brutally blunt and often ludicrous comments displayed a surprisingly profound, albeit odd quality of wisdom.

She was just beginning to really enjoy Luna's presence, when the dormitory door swung inward.

Ginny's face was flushed, her usually straight hair was tussled, and her lips were slightly swollen. She was clutching to her chest the small, purple box that Michael Corner had previously been carrying.

Harry didn't even need to ask what had happened; the redhead's dazed expression told her everything she needed to know.

"Snogged him, did you?" she asked plainly, trying her very best to keep the anger out of her voice. "He gave you a gift and… and you went and _snogged_ him?"

Ginny's blush slowly drained away. "Michael kissed _me_."

Harry scoffed and retrained her gaze upon the lines of text in her book, not really seeing them at all. She only vaguely registered Luna excusing herself from the room.

"I suppose I'll leave now. I don't like it when people row. Fighting tends to attract wild Humdingers."

"What was Luna doing here?" asked Ginny as the door clicked shut behind the blonde .

"I obviously invited her up," replied Harry curtly. "Is that a problem?"

Ginny frowned and sat down at the dresser. "Of course it's not a problem. I was just… I was just asking. Is someone kissing me a problem?"

"Why would it be?" drawled Harry, flipping the page of her book rather roughly. "You can snog whoever you want."

"I know I can," said Ginny, picking up her favorite brush and dragging it forcefully through her hair, her frown becoming ever more prominent. "And I will."

Harry could no longer contain her anger.

"_Fine then,"_ she growled, shutting the book and flinging it aside. "I hope you're happy with Mr. Floppy-Hair."

Ginny slammed the brush down on the dresser and spun around. "What the _bloody_ hell is wrong with you? Two hours ago you were more chipper than Dobby."

Harry's fingernails dug painfully into her clenched fists as she shouted brazenly, "What do you _think_ is wrong with me, Ginny? You went off and snogged some bloke you hardly know just because he gave you a Christmas present!"

Ginny ears turned a brilliant shade of pink as she stood up. "I _told_ you! He kissed _me!_"

"Oh and I suppose you just stood there like a plank of wood? You kissed him back! You _enjoyed_ it!"

"SO WHAT IF I DID?" yelled Ginny, prodding Harry hard in the chest with a finger. "WHY DOES IT MATTER?"

"YOU ONLY LIKE HIM BECAUSE HE'S _HANDSOME!_" screamed Harry furiously, smacking the offending finger away. "AND… AND IT'S OBVIOUS THAT HE ONLY FANCIES YOU BECAUSE… BECAUSE YOU'VE GOT BIG-"

_**SLAP**_

Harry's rage rushed out of her in a torrent. Along with instilling a lingering stinging sensation that made her eyes water, the blow to her cheek left her feeling exhausted and entirely numb.

"For your _information_," whispered Ginny harshly, "Michael was one of the only people that didn't taunt me while you were locked up! He said he thought I was brave for supporting you! He's nice! He likes me! So what if he's attracted to the way I look? If I recall correctly, _so are you!_"

Harry shuddered as those last three words cut into her. She knew exactly what she was really angry about, but openly informing Ginny of the searing jealously that was tearing at her heart simply wasn't an option.

Unable to bring herself to meet the redhead's eyes, she left the room without a word.

Harry had made a promise to never act on her desires... and now here she was, knowingly breaking it four months later. Although, to be fair, her lengthy, isolated imprisonment, along with Ginny's penchant for sexual teasing, had made resisting the redhead an exceptionally more difficult and confusing task than she had anticipated. What was worse, every time she was able to bury her attraction, her friend would go _beyond_ teasing and do something far more intimate than either one of them was accustomed to, causing the desire to come roaring back to the forefront of Harry's mind. Just the other day as they settled down to sleep, Ginny had _consciously_ slipped a hand beneath Harry's shirt. While saying her tired goodnights, the girl had cupped Harry's breast without even realizing she was doing it.

After an hour of wandering aimlessly through her favorite parts of the castle, Harry eventually came to a halt in front of a large door. It had sprung from the wall as she approached it. Having nothing better to do than go back to the common room and find a way to apologize to Ginny, she pushed it open and stepped inside.

Expecting to see mountains of discarded junk, or perhaps the dormitory she had slept in during her first night of freedom from the Ministry, Harry wasn't at all prepared for the familiar, yet magnificent scene that lay before her.

Bright sunlight streamed through the doorway of the marble atrium, warming her cheeks. In the circular courtyard beyond, the tips of lush, green grass swayed with the soft, undulating breeze. A massive, white temple rose high above the distant, stormy horizon, its seven majestic columns dividing the sky. Directly in the center of the vibrant setting sat the white fountain, its floating, effervescent waters dancing and shining in the brilliant light.

There was a soft _click._

She whirled around.

Where the closed door should have been… or even where an ornate fireplace should have been… there was only smooth, solid stone.

Harry was trapped.

After several fruitless minutes spent searching for some sort of hidden exit in the marble wall, Harry reluctantly gave up, exited the shady atrium, and sauntered over to the fountain.

The levitating water had not changed shape since her last visit. The rune still swirled in great, interlocking spirals, trickling tiny waterfalls into the rippling pool below. The crystalline liquid stemmed from nowhere, yet the fountain never overflowed. It defied logic. It defied reason. But… it was so… it was so…

_Squiggle._

Feeling oddly wistful, Harry knelt and reached out, letting her fingers trail through the sparkling streams of cool water.

"Miss Potter… back again, I see."

Harry squeaked in surprise, nearly falling into the pool as she spun to face the owner of the deep, lilting voice.

Although the bright sun framed his broad-shouldered silhouette, making it difficult to look at his face directly, the man's wild, snow-white hair and orange, flower-patterned swim-trunks were unmistakable.

"Oh… erm… hello again, sir. I'm sorry… I didn't mean to come back. I was at school. I went inside the Room of Requirement and… well, I don't know what happened."

Nicolas Flamel waved her off. "Don't let it trouble you. The only thing you'll achieve is a headache. Relative space and time… they're quite fickle. Rowena's personal study plays with them in ways that I could never quite grasp."

He cast aside his twisted, seven-ringed staff and casually sat down beside her on the edge of the marble fountain, his piercing, ethereal gaze fixed not upon Harry, but on the dark line of faraway clouds.

"The odds are astronomical… but given the state of things, I'm not altogether surprised that you've physically stumbled upon the Lost Temple for a second time."

"The state of things?" asked Harry curiously.

Flamel gestured towards the distant, roiling sky. "I fear that the world is changing. I fear that the world is wrong. A storm stirs upon the horizon, Potter; a storm most ominous. We've had far too many storms lately. Have you not heard the sound of thunder? The clouds have been clashing in ways I've not seen for five hundred years… and that terrifies me. Most ironic that a man whose enemies dubbed him 'The Oncoming Storm' fears the natural phenomenon of his namesake."

Harry ogled the man. "I don't really understand, sir. It sounds to me like you're saying that my coming here wasn't an accident. And… where _is_ 'here' exactly?"

"Smart little thing, aren't you? I had hoped you wouldn't catch that. But yes… you are indeed here to serve a purpose. What that purpose is I have yet to divine. As to your second question… our location is not so much lost as its name suggests. We are neither here nor there, rather, we are between."

Flamel's impossible eyes swiveled to meet her gaze. "I find myself in a most vexing dilemma, Miss Potter. I cannot yet decide which choice is the lesser of two evils: do I reveal to you my secrets, thus destroying your semblance of happiness, or do I take them to my ever-nearing grave, letting you walk blindly to your fate?"

Given the foreboding tone with which his last word rang, Harry decided that her 'fate' didn't sound very appealing.

"Could you at least tell me what this rune is?" she probed hopefully, gesturing towards the spiraling water. "It's been following me for two years now. I saw it in my soup last week… well, I think I did."

The snowy-haired man chuckled dryly. "Yes… you _would_ begin to see it everywhere... even more so if you actively went searching for it. The rune is trying to present itself to you; to remind you of its existence."

Harry was getting more confused by the minute. "Why would it do that? Is it important that I see it?"

Flamel sighed. "Alas, Miss Potter, you are not ready to hear all the answers you seek. Not yet, at least. However, I think that I _will_ go as far as to tell you what the rune is. You certainly deserve as much after such an emotionally trying year."

She perked up. "_Really?_ You will?"

The man nodded. "At this point, I don't believe any _real_ harm could come from me telling you that the rune that follows in your wake is… quite simply… love."

"Love?" asked Harry, feeling slightly cheated. "Just… _love?_ That's it? So… I love soup?"

"While you may indeed love soup," replied Flamel lightly, "that has naught to do with your seeing the rune within it. Believe me when I say that the magic this spiral represents is vast and infinitely complex; many of its qualities remain a mystery even to one such as me. And yet… at its base, in the rawest form imaginable, there simply lies love."

Harry lost herself in thought as the man fell silent.

_I love Ginny._

_Ginny… Ginny loves me._

_Does that mean… _

_Does she only…_

"Sir," she whispered hoarsely, "the rune appeared on both Ginny Weasley's arm and my own. Does that mean… Is it _making_ Ginny love me? Is it making me love _her?_"

Flamel smiled warmly, his eyes following the waters of the spiral as it sloshed through the air. "What does your heart tell you?"

_Ginny smiled down at her, brushing a finger across her cheek. 'Forever and ever, Harry. I meant it.'_

"My heart says no," muttered Harry finally, feeling extremely guilty that she had acted so pettily back in their room.

"And your heart is quite right," said Flamel gently. "No _small_ amount of heartbreak was required to rip your friend's soul from Tom Riddle's body. An emotion of such caliber required _ultimate_ grief. It required true, _passionate_ love. And let me assure you, a magic that can force one to _truly_ love another does not and never will exist, for nothing is stronger than the power of love itself. It cannot be dominated. It cannot be controlled. No… the youngest Weasley's feelings for you are _beyond_ genuine, Miss Potter. Were they not… well… we wouldn't be standing here having this conversation."

Harry nodded, feeling much better. The way the man talked… Every word that rolled off his tongue carried with it an air of absolute, humbling finality, leaving no room for question or debate.

Flamel stood. "And with that said… I think it's time for you to return to school. While I do find your presence here most extraordinary and worthy of further inquiry, I feel that without having a body to ground yourself in the physical world, lingering within the Astral plane is not the wisest of choices, _especially_ for a magical oddity like yourself."

"A magical oddity like-"

The snowy-haired man held up his hands to stop her. "Another tale for another time. _You_ must get back to Hogwarts… and _I_ must get back to massaging my lovely wife."

"But… I can't." Harry gestured towards the atrium. "I'm stuck, sir. The door I came through... it's gone."

Flamel snapped his fingers and his staff zoomed back to his hand. "Albus mentioned to me in passing that his future apprentice had already been accepted by his phoenix. Magnificent creatures, phoenixes are. Their very existence is yet another example of an impossibility made possible. As the only _true_ immortals, they are neither living nor dead, for one cannot live if one cannot die. They are neither here nor there, rather, they are between."

Before she could say a word, the body of Nicolas Flamel shimmered into nothing, his impossibly old eyes the very last things to fade away.

It took Harry a relatively short amount of time to catch the meaning of the man's parting words.

"Fawkes. I need you. Please help me."

As the air around her began to heat up, the beautiful sound of phoenix song echoed through the courtyard, swelling within her eardrums until they felt ready to pop.

With an earsplitting _BOOM_, Fawkes' multicolored column of fire burst into existence above the white fountain.

Harry held out her arms.

The phoenix wrapped its large talons around her wrists and the world seemed to explode before her very eyes. A sense of wonder washed over her as the roaring flames painlessly burned away her body, turning flesh and bone to ash. And yet, when they eventually reached her neck, threatening to swallow her entirely, Harry started to panic.

"Fawkes! What's happening?"

Fixing her with what could only be described as an amused look, the scarlet phoenix trilled reassuringly… as if to say, _'Just go with it, you ninny.'_

Trusting the bird, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath with her nonexistent lungs, and embraced the all-consuming fire.

To be aware that she was alive yet without a body startled her to say the least. The sensation was physically indescribable, because she had absolutely nothing to compare it to.

After a few short moments of oblivion, Harry _felt_ her body reform, exactly as it had been mere seconds ago. When Fawkes' talons left her wrists, she creaked open a bleary eyelid and unsurprisingly found herself standing in the middle of Professor Dumbledore's circular office.

The Headmaster himself was sitting at his desk, taking his tea, which would have been quite a normal sight to behold had Tom Riddle's body not been sharing it with him.

The handsome boy's coal-black eyes swiveled in her direction and Harry was taken aback. Tom's normally hollow stare seemed _considerably_ less blank than usual; it was almost as if he… recognized her.

"Ah. Good evening, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore, tapping Tom on the head with his wand.

Abandoning its tea, the soulless body stood, walked across the office, and slowly climbed the staircase to the second floor.

Dumbledore gestured for her to sit. "I was wondering where my feathered friend had gone off to in such a rush. Tell me, how was your first bonded burning? Pleasant, I hope?"

Harry held up her fingers, which were smoking at the tips. The sensations coursing through her body were akin to those obtained after waking from a rather refreshing nap.

"It was… _interesting_, sir. I feel surprisingly good. Although…" She sniffed the air. "I think a bit of my hair's been singed off."

"Yes," Dumbledore mused, lightly stroking his beard. "The scent lingers in one's nostrils for weeks, I'm afraid. On the upside, if one is plagued by excessive body hair, a good burning or two can sear it clean away."

"Well, that's good news," said Harry cheerfully. "Here's to never shaving my legs again."

The Headmaster chuckled. "Quite. May I ask what made you call for Fawkes, Harry?"

After a long hour of explaining the details to Professor Dumbledore, Harry was finally able to return to the common room. However, before she could sit down and rest, Ron and Hermione accosted her.

The redhead was extremely on edge. "_Harry…_ I can't let this happen! You've got to help me! Ginny can't have a… a… _Blimey!_ I don't even want to say it! We've got to get rid of this Corner bloke!"

"Get _rid_ of him?" asked Hermione incredulously, her frazzled look most likely caused by excessive rowing with Ron. "What _exactly_ are you planning to do? Tie him up and ship him out of the country?"

Ron patted the bushy-haired girl on the shoulder appreciatively. "That's a great idea. Thanks, Mione."

After mere seconds of listening to the pair's explosion of bickering, Harry excused herself from their company and slowly climbed the stairs to the girl's dormitories. She hesitated outside their door for a good ten minutes, weighing the various options of how to apologize. Ultimately, she decided to improvise, for it wasn't really possible to plan ahead when it came to dealing with Weasley tempers.

However, to Harry's complete and utter surprise, she was pulled into a _fierce_ hug the moment she stepped into the room.

"G-Gin! What are you d-"

"My heart says no too," whispered the redhead, tangling her fingers into Harry's hair.

She didn't need to ask what Ginny meant, for she could see the Looking Glass sitting in a prominent spot upon the nightstand. Overcome with relief, Harry wrapped her arms behind the girl's neck and mumbled apologetically, "I didn't mean the things I said. They were horrible."

Ginny squeezed her waist. "You don't have to explain. I figured out what you were upset about on my own. I understand. Please, please, _please_, forgive me for the slap."

"Are you… Are you still angry?" asked Harry dejectedly, unable to meet Ginny's eyes. "I promised you I'd never act on it… and I did."

The girl used a finger to lift Harry's chin and smiled. "Does it look like I'm angry?"

Harry shook her head. "I'm so _so_ sorry, Gin. You really _can_ snog whoever you want, whenever you want… I just… I don't think I'll ever be able to be very supportive of the idea."

Giggling, Ginny stepped closer, forcing Harry backwards into the now closed door. "_Well…_ what if I snogged _you?_"

Harry's heart began to pound rapidly the second her back touched the wood. The way their hips were grinding together was maddening.

"But… you don't want to," she replied breathlessly, absolutely refusing to let the girl joke about her feelings for the thousandth time. "Do you?"

Ginny's smile faltered and the unintelligible expression that Harry had glimpsed that morning flashed across her features once more. "_Harry,_ I… you _know_ I'm not..."

"Then don't play with me like this," whispered Harry quickly, letting her gaze roam over the heart-shaped face she knew better than her own. Reaching up with a trembling hand, she brushed the tip of her thumb over Ginny's perfectly pink lips. "_Please_… not even as a joke. It's so hard for me to… you don't understand how much I… you're so beautiful and sometimes I can't-"

Ginny pressed her hand over Harry's mouth, effectively cutting her off. "I get it… and I'm sorry. But… I like it when you get flustered and turn red. It's cute."

"It's not cute!" grumbled Harry indignantly, pulling Ginny's hand away. "It's awful."

The redhead smirked. "Awfully cute."

"You're a twit."

"True."

Tugging Harry to the bed, Ginny pushed her down, sat behind her, and began to fiddle with her hair.

Leaning back into the redhead's chest, Harry asked cautiously, "So… friends?"

"The best," replied Ginny, placing a soft kiss on the top of Harry's head. "More than the best even. Hmmm…What's better than best?"

Harry grinned. "Erm… nothing? I'm quite positive that's why it's called best."

"Oh shut it."

"Make me."

"Knees?"

"Shutting it!"

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Placing his wand to his lips, Bill softly exhaled. The mist of his breath gathered in a small ball at his wandtip, which he then swept across the door's surface as if it were a paintbrush. Like it would to chilled glass, the mist clung to the shimmering wall in front of him, revealing the next layer of invisible runes to the naked eye.

"What're we looking at here, Weasley?" whispered Collins, sidling up next to him.

"Give me a moment," muttered Bill, wiping the sweat from his brow as he performed yet another intricate revelation charm. "These schemes are more complex than anything we saw in Egypt. Whoever warded this tomb was set on keeping people out."

"Well hurry it up!" growled the hit-wizard anxiously. "We're running out of time and this job isn't strictly… _legal._"

The grim reminder did nothing to lessen Bill's nerves. He had heard a handful of rumors about the Ministry prisons in Jerusalem; none of them pleasant. He had no idea why Gringotts had suddenly decided to pull his team out of the dig site in Cairo, but upon threat of losing his job, he hadn't protested. Looking back, perhaps not even _that_ was worth the trouble in which they now found themselves knee-deep. Tulley, their newly recruited linguist, had accidentally triggered one of the Ministry's alarm wards within the mass wizarding gravesite. Any moment now, the Israeli DMLE officers would be swooping down on them, bearing questions as to why they were excavating without the proper permits at two o'clock in the morning.

One by one, Bill slowly untangled the wards until they were laid out before him in clear lines of runic text.

"Amir," he called out to the three men keeping watch. "I'm done here. You're up."

"Why is it that I'm the one that has to do the dangerous work?" grumbled the wizened Egyptian Cursebreaker as he shakily clambered down into the pit. "You're perfectly capable, aren't you?"

Bill grinned. "You know, I'm beginning to suspect that your 'grumpy old codger' routine is all an act. You just enjoy hearing me admit that you're the better breaker, don't you?"

The old man drew his wand from his sleeve and flashed Bill his grimy, yellowed smile. "Never know, will you, boy? Step aside and let me do my job."

Bill always enjoyed watching his mentor work. The man was an artist; he had dedicated his entire life to his job and was largely recognized as the best breaker in the world. No curse or ward could stand against his skill. Bill imagined that if Amir Mubarak had a mind to do it, he could bring down the wards of Hogwarts… not that he ever _would_.

And thus… he was more than shocked when the old man's wandtip froze above one particular scheme that had a faint golden glow.

"William, come… look here. Do you recognize this? I've never seen it… nor can I determine its effects. Its aura has a vaguely familiar feel that reminds me of an old Greek rune that signified eternity… but that consisted of only one."

"_One?_ One of what?" Stepping forward, Bill snapped on his aura spectrometers and peered at the small rune that rested beneath Amir's wandtip.

His jaw fell slack.

It was a small, double spiral.

"I… _I have_," stuttered Bill, lifting his goggles. "In my own home no less. My little sister's best-"

From above them, Collins' panicked shout interrupted him. "Oi! You there! Stop!"

A deep voice, belonging to neither Tulley nor the hit-wizard, wheezed with laughter. "Are you going to attack an old, unarmed man?"

"I'm telling you to stay put! Identify yourself! How did you get past our containment wards?"

"Get past them? I've been here the whole time, boy. I mean you no harm. Do let me through."

"No can do, old man. Go back to w-"

Bill heard a loud thump and despite not being able to see it happen, he was quite sure that Collins had just been knocked out.

"And what about you, lass? Are you going to try and stop me too?"

Tulley squeaked nervously.

"Good. Pardon me."

A boot hit the topmost rung of the rope-ladder.

Bill hastily raised his wand, but Amir caught his wrist and forced it back down. "Not a wise move, son. I believe we're meeting the man responsible for our transfer to Israel. Isn't that right, Blaise? Or is it Jackson now? I never could keep track of all your names."

"Oddly enough, neither can I," wheezed the newcomer as his feet hit the dirt. "Jackson will do nicely for now. Do pardon me for interrupting your work, but I simply can't let you break that ward. It's the failsafe. Should it fall, the tomb's contents will be incinerated."

Bill frowned at the aged man who was casually strolling towards them down the tunnel. Even though his smile was missing several teeth, even though his skin was sagging off his bones, even though his hair was the color of snow… his jaunty gait was that of a much younger man.

Amir clasped hands with Jackson. "Good to see you, old friend. How is Albus these days?"

"As worrisome as ever, Amir," grunted the other man. "His past deeds are coming back to haunt him and I fear he will not be at his best when the Dark Lord makes a return."

"The rumors are true, then?" gasped the Egyptian wizard. "He's alive?"

"As alive as one such as he could ever be… and who is this young man?" asked Jackson, turning his oddly eerie gaze towards Bill. "Looks like a Weasley."

"A-Aye," said Bill, cautiously shaking the man's outstretched hand. "That I am. Bill Weasley. If it's not too rude… may I ask who you are? And… how do you know each other?"

Jackson laughed. "All old people know each other, lad. As to who I am… well… it's rather complicated. The name's Smith… Jackson Smith. I called in some _very_ old favors with the goblins to get Amir working on this tomb."

Bill had heard the name Jackson Smith. "Aren't you the Headmaster at the Alchemy Institute?"

"Not anymore. I'm currently enjoying my retirement, which at the moment, involves a bit of spelunking." Smith stepped forward to examine the ward scheme in front of them. "The contents of this tomb are of great interest to me… but I'm not very handy with runes. I have a rather cluttered memory as is. Trying to keep track of all those little symbols would be a nightmare. That's why I hired an expert; the _best_ expert."

"You flatter me," said Amir. "Well, we'd best hurry. The girl up above triggered an alarm at the entrance."

Smith waved him off. "Not to worry. I've loosed a dragon in the middle of Jerusalem. It will keep the Ministry busy for hours. About this ward… break all the rest, but leave this one untouched. I believe I know how to pass through it."

Ten minutes later, the golden ward scheme was all that remained of the protections around the vault.

Smith stepped forward and clapped Amir on the back. "Well done. You've gotten faster since the Dark Reich. Alright… place your hand upon the ward, think upon someone you love with all your heart, and step forward. It should be that simple. If not, then I'm about to be torn to pieces."

The man closed his eyes, pressed his fingers against the wall of text, and passed through it with ease.

Bill raised a doubtful eyebrow, but did as he was told, picturing the faces of his brothers and sister as he stepped forward. The ward's magic was surprisingly warm. It reminded him of the blazing bonfire that his parents had built to celebrate Charlie's tenth birthday.

Amir remained behind, looking nervous. "I don't think I should. I was born on the streets… No parents. I've never had a family nor a real companion in my life. You go, William. I'll remain here and keep watch."

Bill nodded and followed Jackson Smith into the now open tomb. Torches flared into life as they crossed the threshold.

For all the pomp and security outside, the tomb itself was surprisingly sparse. Four stone graves rose from the ground in front of him, the slate slabs that sealed them both modest and plain. The two graves in the center of the row were covered with a cloth sheet, emblazoned with the same double-spiraled rune that comprised the center of the ward outside.

Smith walked right past all four graves and slipped into a side chamber.

Running his hand over the spiral pattern on the cloth before following the man into the side chamber, Bill asked curiously, "Didn't you say you were interested in the contents of the tomb?"

"Not the graves, boy. I already know exactly who lies within them: a seer named Yeshua, a healer named Mariah that became the seer's wife, and their two young children, Sarah and Yeheshua. To this very day, nearly two billion Muggles consider the seer to be a god... which is why the protections around this place are so heavy. Slews of Israeli wizards through the ages have enchanted this tomb to keep trespassers out. Yeshua's body, along with the bodies of his wife and children, could very well destroy the foundations of the largest muggle religion on the planet. Imagine the worldwide panic and despair. I assume you're familiar with the religion I speak of? You celebrate Christmas like the majority of European wizards, do you not?"

Bill's eyes widened. "Do you mean to say that this is the tomb of Christ?"

"A fictitious name… but appropriate, seeing as nearly all muggle religions are fictions based upon the actions of wizards." Smith raised his wand to the wall of the side chamber, shedding light upon a massive, richly-painted, wizarding mural that covered all four of the chamber's walls. "Yeshua was a man just like you and I; a powerful wizard, but a man all the same. Unfortunately, the most talented of our kind were often mistaken as deities in the times when we walked openly among the giftless. They glorified poor Yeshua, who always had trouble controlling his visions… and his reputation eventually got him killed. _T__wice_… if you believe the stories. My mother once told me tales of the man murdered twice-over to scare me into never revealing my magic to strangers."

"Wait," Bill whispered anxiously. "We took down the wards! We can't just-"

"I trust you and Amir will do an admirable job of restoring them to their former glory. Now do be quiet and let me find that which I seek."

Smith's wandlight raked over the mural inch by inch for the better part of an hour. Eventually, Bill could no longer control himself. "What is it you're looking for? Perhaps I can help."

The man eyed him appraisingly. "Yes… you could. But… tell me, Weasley… would you be willing to keep the secrets of a man you just met after weeks… months… maybe _years_ of torture?"

"Erm… _No_… I can't say that I would," admitted Bill honestly.

"Then do forgive me for remaining silent."

Another hour passed and it seemed like Smith had yet to discover anything of significance, so Bill busied himself with examining the mural on his own. Although he couldn't read the Hebrew text inscribed along the bottom of the frame, it was rather obvious that the majority of the images were detailed depictions of the Seer's visions… of which there were hundreds. While it _was_ rather interesting to watch the moving visions play out… nothing displayed within the paintings seemed to be worth the hassle of breaking into the tomb.

"At last!" wheezed the old man suddenly. "It happened to all three… but… why? Are they the answer… or are they the cause?"

Bill turned.

Smith was running his hand over a lengthy series of small images that Bill had already passed by. They all depicted a stormy sky looming above two tiny figures who he had concluded were the seer and his wife. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about the little timeline of images… well, nothing except the seer's apparent revival from death, only to be gruesomely beheaded with his wife and children in the next frame.

"I'm done, boy. Let's go. We don't want to be here when the Israeli Ministry finally makes an appearance."

Bill nodded hastily. He had little desire to discover whether or not the rumors about this country's prisons were actually true.

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Ginny's heart thudded pleasantly as she strolled down the corridor hand-in-hand with the handsome, older boy. She liked watching his lips move as he talked. Quite often, she found herself not listening to what he had to say at all as she stared at them. Not that she really missed anything important. All he ever talked about was comics, schoolwork, and Quidditch… and when he talked about Quidditch, he was usually blatantly wrong about everything; quite odd for a Ravenclaw… but Ginny supposed he was just trying to impress her.

Michael squeezed her fingers. "Well, this is me."

"Bye," said Ginny, smiling at him. "Would you… Would you like to eat lunch with me today?"

He winked at her. "Sure thing; see you then."

As Michael gave her a chaste peck on the lips and bid her farewell, Ginny's eyes inadvertently strayed to the black-haired girl at her side.

Harry was doing it again; peering intently at the wall, just like she had done the day they met; just like she _always_ did when she was trying to blatantly ignore something that was happening right in front of her.

And Ginny hated it. She hated not being seen by the girl who had once so avidly avoided her gaze at the train station. Being ignored by Harry made her feel utterly lost.

As the dark-haired boy strode off towards Potions, Ginny grabbed her friend's hand, pulled her into a nearby empty classroom, and shut the door.

Harry didn't protest. Instead, she let her bangs fall into her face; a sign which Ginny knew indicated that her best friend was beyond upset.

"Please look at me," whispered Ginny coaxingly, dragging Harry to her body and enveloping her in a large hug. "I don't like it when you pretend I don't exist."

"_Yeah?"_ asked the girl mockingly. "Well, _I_ don't like it when you flaunt your stupid boyfriend in front of me. I don't want to see you _slobber_ on each other."

"Slobber? _Really?_ Our lips barely touched! Look, Harry… if you really want me to stop seeing him… I will. You mean more to me than anyone else."

Harry roughly pushed Ginny's arms away and spun around to face the wall. "No. Stop _doing_ this! That's the fourth time you've said that and my answer hasn't changed. You don't need my permission to like or dislike someone, Ginny. We're not… We're not _anything._"

Ginny's chest tightened at the girl's cold tone. "That's _not_ true. We're sisters… we're _family!_"

"That's right," said Harry softly, hunching her shoulders, shielding her slim body from the early February chill that was blowing through an open window. "We're family. You wouldn't let any of your _brothers_ tell you what to do, would you? Why should your sister be any different?"

The raw, biting logic of the black-haired girl's words felt like a punch to the gut.

She didn't know _why_ it made a difference. It just… did.

When Ginny offered no reply, Harry's hand found the doorknob. "I'm going to write Sirius a letter and then I'm going straight to Defense. Professor Dumbledore gets that disappointed look in his eye whenever anyone is late. See you."

Ginny caught her wrist. "Wait a moment!"

"No!" yelled Harry abruptly. "I _hate_ waiting! You and Ron… all the two of you do is make me sit around and wait!"

Harry wrenched her arm trying to break free, but Ginny held on tight. "What are you _talking_ about?"

The girl stopped struggling and visibly sagged. "Let go of me, Gin."

Ginny shook her head and pulled Harry into another tight hug. "I don't want you to leave."

Harry fumbled weakly with Ginny fingers, trying to loosen them. "I'm not _leaving_. I'll never leave and I'll _always_ wait, no matter how much I hate it. Just let me go!"

When the odd contradiction's meaning finally sank in, Ginny let her interlocked fingers fall slack and the black-haired girl staggered forward.

With the fluid grace of a born Seeker, Harry twirled and managed to remain upright.

Tears were streaming down her face.

"_H-Harry_," whispered Ginny brokenly. "Please… don't c-."

"I'm not crying," muttered the girl angrily, rubbing fiercely at her cheeks. "I have something in my eyes. I'll see you at lunch."

And with that, Harry turned and stalked purposefully out of the classroom, leaving Ginny feeling horrid.

She _knew_ that Harry wanted her. She knew it… and enjoyed it; enjoyed knowing that she could do things to the Girl Who Lived that no one else could. It was why Ginny couldn't stop teasing her, no matter how hard she tried. And she _had_ tried… especially after their fight on Christmas. But something about seeing those emerald orbs cloud with desire was addictive. Harry's attraction was the cure to all of her self-doubt. It was like sunbathing in rays of confidence; confidence she had lost over the past year.

As Ginny opened the door to leave, a strong burst of cold wind slammed it shut. The gust rattled the windows, physically toppling desks with its might. She rushed to the open window pane and after much effort, finally managed to force it shut by throwing her whole weight against the frame.

She slid down the glass, panting.

"You know, you're quite strong for such a small girl."

Ginny yelped in surprise, leaping to her feet.

The classroom was still empty.

"H-Hello?" she stuttered, searching for the owner of the deep, thickly-accented voice. "Is someone there?"

There was no answer.

Shaking her head lightly, thinking she must have imagined it, Ginny made for the door once more. And yet, right as her fingers touched the handle, the hair on the back of her neck prickled ominously. She didn't know how she knew it, but she could _feel_ someone standing behind her.

Spinning around, Ginny whipped out her wand and pointed it wildly about the empty classroom. "I know you're in here!"

"_Ahh._ Very good," answered the same, seemingly disembodied man. "I see that the Weasley family's fighting instincts haven't dulled in the last fifty years. Das ist wunderbar! You'll need them soon enough."

Ginny shivered. She could distinctly detect the rusty odor of iron, a scent which, thanks to Tom, she was intimately familiar with; far more familiar than she would have liked to be.

It was the smell of blood.

"Who are you?" asked Ginny bravely. "W-What do you want with me?"

"Nothing, child… nothing at all. I am merely a spectator that occasionally enjoys interfering with the game. You should decide what it is you _really_ feel for that girl. She'll soon be dead… and despite my very cold heart… I'm of the opinion that she deserves to experience the very best things life has to offer before passing on."

"Is that a _threat?_" hissed Ginny angrily, suddenly feeling far more confident than she had a right to be. "Are you going to _hurt_, Harry?"

Yet again, there was no answer. Seeing as the hairs on the back of her neck were once more lying flat, Ginny gathered that whoever the voice belonged to had vanished as quickly as they'd come.

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The words _'we're sisters… we're family'_ were still ringing in Harry's ears as she slouched into Ancient Runes that afternoon. With just four words, Ginny had performed the emotional equivalent of pushing her in front of a double-decker bus. A family was all she had wanted for eleven years. but now that she had it… it just wasn't enough. She needed more than hugs from Ginny. She needed more than hair-ruffling from Ron.

She needed their lips against hers. She needed to hear them moan her name.

Slumping into the chair next to Hermione, Harry put her head down upon the table and covered her face with her arms. Even though it had been ages since she had experienced the sensation without the aid of her augmented magic, there was simply no mistaking it.

Harry was painfully horny.

Seeing Michael and Ginny kiss for the first time had only made matters worse. After Defense, foregoing her midday meal, Harry had rushed back to the dormitory to relieve herself of the heat between her legs. She probably would have skipped afternoon classes to continue servicing herself had Hermione _not_ walked in to check on her after returning from lunch.

The bushy-haired girl beside her lightly touched her shoulder. "Harry? Is everything alright?"

Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and snuggled it to her cheek. "Everything's just _great_; really _spiffing_."

Hermione wiggled her fingers and whispered, "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, you know. What's wrong? Was someone baiting you? Did Ron say something insensitive?"

"No," grumbled Harry, "Ron's always insensitive and someone is always baiting me. I'm entirely used to both."

Hermione frowned. "This isn't… _Harry_… this isn't about what I saw you doing this morning, is it? You forget that I'm almost a year older than you. I've had plenty of time to… to explore myself. It's a perfectly normal thing to do in private."

Harry raised her head just far enough to peer into Hermione's chocolaty eyes. "I thought we agreed to not mention that ever again?"

The brown-haired girl turned pink, which drastically accentuated the dark bags under her eyes. "_Yes_, well, you just seemed very upset and I thought perhaps… _Anyway_, is there anything I can do to help?"

Harry slowly sat up, eyeing Hermione warily. Even though Marin's warning was always at the back of her mind, she desperately wanted to confide in someone close that wasn't an object of her affections… and at the moment, the only person around who fit the bill was Hermione.

"Mione… if I write something personal down on a bit of parchment and then show it to you, will you promise not to make a scene no matter what it says?"

Hermione's thick eyebrows nearly disappeared as they rose into her hairline, but eventually she nodded her consent.

Hand trembling, Harry scrawled out her biggest secret on a small strip of paper torn from the bottom of her homework.

_There's really not a roundabout way of saying it. I don't just fancy boys. Attraction-wise, I field both sides of the Quidditch pitch._

Hermione's eyes bulged and her face flushed to a shade of red darker than a ripened tomato, but true to her word, she didn't make a scene. Picking up her quill, the bushy-haired girl hastily scribbled beneath Harry's note:

_Harry, I'm extremely flattered, but I just don't feel the same. I'm so sorry._

Snorting, Harry nudged Hermione and whispered quickly, "I don't mean you, you big twit. _Although_… I _do_ think you're rather fetching."

The girl's blush slowly tapered away as she struggled to find words. "Then… then… _Ginny?_"

Harry quickly hushed her, nodding towards Ron who was amiably chatting with Anthony Goldstein. "Please, Mione… _be quiet_. Ginny took it _horribly_ at first… and I just can't handle going through that with Ron right now. I know you're probably upset as well… but you're much more level-headed than those two and I just really need someone that understands."

Hermione clasped her hands over Harry's. "_No!_ No, I'm not upset at all, Harry! I think a part of me even vaguely suspected it. The way you act towards her has always seemed rather… _intimate_."

It was as if a massive weight had tumbled from Harry's shoulders. "Do you… Do you _mean_ that? You're not angry? You're not… uncomfortable?"

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "I can't say I'm not at all shocked… but despite how the rest of the country might feel, I'm perfectly alright with that sort of thing. My Auntie Frieda is the same and she's been happily living with her partner for twenty years. If there's one thing Grangers pride themselves on, it's tolerance."

Harry avidly searched Hermione's face and couldn't find the slightest hint of disdain or irony in her accepting expression. Entwining their fingers, she squeezed the girl's hands affectionately.

"Thank you for making me realize how stupid I was being the day we met, Hermione. In some ways, you're a better friend to me than either of those two Weasley lummoxes. I mean it. I wouldn't be here without you."

Hermione's eyes moistened. "Harry, that's… _well_, those with like minds have to stick together, don't they?"

Harry nodded and lightly kicked the back of Ron's leg. "Yeah… we've got to make up for Ron here."

"Say what?" asked the redhead dubiously, leaning backwards in his chair so that his head was upside down in front of them. "_Oi_… why are you two all teary-eyed?"

"_Girl talk_, Ronald," muttered Hermione primly. Reaching out, she flicked him squarely on the nose. "Go away."

"Nutters," grumbled Ron, crashing the chair back into its proper position as Professor Babbling began the lesson, "the both of you."

A few minutes into the class, Hermione slipped Harry another scrap of parchment beneath the desk.

_I know how much you love her. Factor in desire and lust and I imagine it must be difficult to see Ginny with someone else. If you'd like, maybe I could help you 'get rid' of Michael Corner, as Ron would put it._

Smiling wryly, Harry wrote back:

_No. She's made it perfectly clear that she doesn't want me like that. I just have to move on with my life… and that's partly why I feel so awful, because I really don't want to. And besides… you just want me to be with Ginny so you can have Ron for yourself, don't you?_

Hermione's blush was spectacular; even more intense than the previous.

Just as the girl began to write a reply, someone snapped their fingers at the front of the room and the sliver of parchment shot out from beneath Hermione's quill. Harry watched in horror as their extremely personal exchange soared across the classroom to be daintily snatched from the air by Professor Babbling.

With her mind on Ginny, Harry had completely forgotten that the Runes professor constantly had eyes on her. The old woman hadn't turned from the board, yet she had _still_ noticed them at the back of the class discreetly sliding the paper back and forth.

"The passing of notes in class is prohibited, Miss Granger," said Babbling in her monotone, Irish accent. "Five points from Gryffindor. Now, let us read aloud that which was so exceedingly important that it couldn't wait to be shared until after the end of my lecture."

"NO!" shouted Harry, leaping out of her seat. "Please, don't! I'll serve as many detentions as you'd like, Ma'am… just… please don't read it!"

Every student in the class turned to stare at Harry, some tittering with giggles, some openly laughing at her.

After a moment's hesitation, Professor Babbling pocketed the slip of parchment without looking at its contents and replied stiffly, "A fair exchange, Miss Potter. Please remain behind after today's lesson so that we may discuss your punishment. Do sit down."

Harry hurriedly retook her seat and didn't raise her eyes again until the lesson came to an end. As the tower began to empty, she begrudgingly made her way to the front of the class to await the Professor's judgment.

Hermione cast Harry an apologetic glance as she trailed out of the room behind the rest of the students, leaving Harry alone with Babbling.

As soon as the door clicked shut, before Harry could say a word, the old woman withdrew the message from her pocket and levitated it back to her.

"You should be more wary, girl. You don't want information like that falling into the wrong hands... and not only for the obvious reason of bad press. There are those out there that would use your affection and desire for Miss Weasley against you."

Harry blanched. "How did you know?"

Professor Babbling slowly turned from the board. "Don't be daft, child. I see _everything_. I know you've noticed my gaze upon you. Your poor grades and distraction during class certainly suggest as much."

Harry clapped her hands over her mouth to keep herself from shouting.

Beneath Babbling's wide-brimmed black hat, between the curtains of the woman's long, gray hair, was the most horribly scarred visage that Harry had ever seen. Deep, vivid lines covered every inch of skin. It was like someone had taken a knife to her wrinkled face and neck.

The red lines pulsated with soft waves of power and it took Harry more than a few moments of stunned gaping to realize that Babbling's scars weren't just _normal_ scars.

They were _runes_; runes that had been _carved_ into her flesh.

And that wasn't the worst of it. Behind her black, horn-rimmed glasses, Babbling's eyes… _well_… she didn't really have _eyes_ at all. Shoved into each eye socket was a bulging, silver, glass orb with a glossy, painted pupil. The artificial eyes rolled wildly in place, the movement of each seemingly unconnected to the other.

Babbling chuckled. "Come now, lass. You're hurting my feelings. Express your disgust and be done with it."

Harry stuttered apologetically, struggling to find something to say that wouldn't be completely offensive. "I'm sorry. I'm didn't mean to… I didn't mean to stare, Professor. I know it's none of my business to ask… but… how did that happen?"

The woman sighed and tiredly sat down at her desk. "The Dark Reich happened, Miss Potter. Things don't always go as planned when you're fighting a war. Sometimes unexpected choices have to be made in the heat of the moment. I made such a choice. I carved my flesh to shreds in order to bring down the wards at Oswiecim… and having that sacrifice undermined by snotty-nosed brats that have never tasted the horrors of battle is not something I wish to endure in my old age. Thus, I hide my face from the majority of this castle. Being who you are, I expect you understand the value of privacy… don't you, girl? You won't go gossiping, will you?"

Harry shook her head rapidly. "I'm won't, Ma'am."

"Good." Babbling pulled out a quill. "Now… down to the matter at hand. These eyes of mine have been specially crafted to focus upon runic auras. Headmaster Dumbledore has recently informed me of your close acquaintance with one particular rune as well as your prowess with mind magic. In this case, I believe that your gift itself is inhibiting your ability to focus while under my gaze. Thus, while I don't normally give detentions for trespasses as miniscule as passing notes, I do want you to return here at seven o'clock for the next seven Saturdays. Think of these visits not as detentions, but as remedial lessons. Your marks are quite unacceptable for a young lady as intelligent as yourself and I intend to remedy that even if I have to stare at you for hours on end while you study."

Harry nodded. "I understand. Thank you, Ma'am."

Babbling tore off a slip of parchment and handed it to Harry. Upon it was drawn a small series of triangles with circles in the middle of each.

Before she could ask what it meant, the woman flashed Harry a smile made crooked by her many scars and said, "A rather ingenious rune scheme I invented to wipe away ink from parchment when activated by the verbal command _'Finite.'_ While thinking upon the premise of concealment, scribble this at the top of your next private message to Miss Granger and you won't have to worry about its contents being read aloud by your Professors."

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The departing words of the disembodied voice were still hanging over Ginny's head as she finished brushing her hair and slid into bed that night. While thinking upon their meaning throughout the day, they had steadily begun to sound less like a threat and more like an assurance.

Even though she _was_ worried, there didn't seem to be any immediate danger in the vicinity… and one wasn't likely going to appear in their bedroom as they slept. Wrapping her arms protectively around her friend's waist, she pulled the black-haired girl to her body. Harry grunted and attempted to wiggle away from her, but Ginny tightened her grip and held on tight.

"Stop it," grumbled Harry moodily. "I don't want to cuddle tonight."

Ginny playfully threw her leg over the girl's hip. "Then _why_ are you in my bed?"

"Our bed," corrected Harry, pushing Ginny away. "This is _our_ bed."

"That's not fair," protested Ginny, poking the girl in the arse. "Why do you get two beds?"

"You're an idiot. That's not what I mean."

Ginny clambered over Harry's body to the other side of the mattress. Lying down, she rubbed her nose against the girl's cheek. "I know what you mean."

Harry scoffed and closed her eyes. "No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you-"

"You meant that my bed is your bed and your bed is my bed," said Ginny softly. "Harry, I _know_ why you're upset… so… so please stop being angry with me."

Harry curled into a ball and whispered brokenly into the pillow, "I can't. Not… Not today. It's the only way I can manage."

"What do you mean?" asked Ginny, trailing her fingers over the surprisingly warm skin of Harry's arm. "Manage what?"

The girl's eyes popped open. A sea of emerald fire had flooded the entire surface beneath her eyelids. Grabbing Ginny's hand, she pulled it under the covers and pressed it against…

Ginny's cheeks burned furiously and she quickly removed her fingers from Harry's grasp. The cloth beneath her palm had been hot and somewhat… _damp_.

"What do you _think_ I mean?" breathed Harry huskily, shutting her eyes once more. "_Please_… don't touch me tonight, Gin. I've been like this all day and… I know I won't be able to control what I do if I'm augmented while you're holding me."

Even though a small, curious part of her wanted to witness what her friend losing control might look like, Ginny didn't want to make her Harry hurt any more than she already was.

Leaning forward, she placed a soft kiss in the raven-haired girl's palm. "I won't be able to sleep right without feeling you next to me, you know."

"It's either this or I rip off your clothes," mumbled Harry, turning away from her and scooting to the opposite end of the bed.

Reaching out, Ginny curled her fingers into the waterfall of tumbling, black silk that was splayed across the pillow.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

Ginny let her eyes sweep over the girl's dark silhouette. "I want you to know that I know what it's like. When I was in Tom's body… he wanted you so badly, but I wouldn't let him have you. I just… I'm trying to say that I know what it's like to fight against desire."

Harry shrugged the covers above her shoulders, foregoing any sort of reply.

Frowning, Ginny rolled over and did her best to try and sleep. And yet without the feel of Harry's contours molded snuggly against her body, sleep didn't come easy.

In the dead of night, after what seemed like hours of staring at the insides of her eyelids, Ginny felt the bed shift.

The covers were pulled back.

Ginny had no idea what Harry was doing and was just about to roll over and ask, when a warm hand fell on the bare skin of her thigh, slowly inching the hem of her nightie upwards.

Abruptly closing her mouth, Ginny lay absolutely still.

"You're so beautiful," breathed Harry huskily, obviously thinking she was fast asleep. "This is so much more than lust. I never stop thinking about you. Every time Michael Corner walks past me, I want to tear him to pieces. I may be just as randy as Tom was… but I love you so much it hurts. We're more than just family, Gin."

Harry's fingers froze at the seam of Ginny's knickers and, after a second's hesitation, hastily withdrew.

The mattress shifted once more and the sheets were gently tugged back into place.

Harry's quiet footsteps padded away from the bed… and then paused somewhere on the other side of the room.

"You say you'll love me forever, but you don't seem to realize that everything we are will end the second you fall in love with someone else; you won't be mine anymore."

The bedroom door creaked open.

Ginny sat up, clutching her snitch charm to her chest. "_Harry_, where are you going?"

"I had a feeling you were listening," said Harry quietly, looking back towards the bed as she shrugged on her invisibility cloak. "Go to sleep, Gin. I'm just going for a walk. I need to think about some things; sort myself out, you know?"

"Why?" she asked, feeling oddly apprehensive. "It's late. Come back to bed."

Harry shook her head, her emerald eyes glistening in the dim moonlight. "One day, I'm going to be just another girl in a bridesmaid's dress watching some bloke become the most important person in your life. I need to tame this before that happens… and _you_ need to let me. I think… I think maybe we should start spending some time apart."

Ginny gasped. "_What?_ We don't need to… _Harry_… it'll be fine! You'll be fine!"

"No. I won't. Go to sleep, yeah? I'll see you in the morning."

Before Ginny could protest, the black-haired girl grabbed the Maruader's map from the dresser and slipped wordlessly from the room.

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The familiar popping sound of his apparition was lost amidst the combined roar of booming thunder and crashing ocean waves.

The storm was monstrous.

Wind howled past his ears, whipping his robes to and fro, wrenching his beard out of the leather belt into which he had neatly tucked it.

Shielding his eyes from the hurricane of rain and sand, he stalked across the white beach towards the modest, palm-roofed villa that was nestled between the cliffs.

As soon as he passed through the makeshift, driftwood fence, the wind, rain, and sound abruptly died. With a single, small step, it was as if he had passed into the eye of the storm. The only discernable signs that a tempest raged across the lonely strip of beach were the frequent flashes of lightning.

The door to the villa swung open and light spilled out onto the sand, before being obscured by a distinctly feminine figure.

"Is that… Is that _you_, Alby?"

"I'm afraid so," wheezed Albus. "May I come in? It's been quite a long trip and I need to rest my feet."

"Of course! I've just made tea."

The willowy, white-haired beauty bustled out of the house and linked her arm though his to help him up the stairs.

"You needn't fuss, Perenelle. I _am_ roughly sixteen-hundred years younger than you, you know."

"Nonsense, Alby," chided the woman softly, pushing him through the door. "You look tired. Come sit down.

Albus sank into the offered armchair with a fatigued sigh. He felt thin; he felt… _spent_. The daily task of preparing Tom's body for the eventual reconstruction these past four months had consumed a tremendous amount of his magic and stamina. Add on the weight of several international portkey trips… and he had never felt so old in his life.

"Here you are, dear," said Perenelle, sliding a cup of tea into his hands. "Is Earl Grey still to your liking? It used to be your favorite."

Albus basked in the strong, earthy scent emanating from the teacup. "It always will be. Much obliged. I'm surprised you remember. It's been nearly seventy years since we last shared a cup."

Perenelle smiled at him, her large grey eyes twinkling with silent laughter. "When you've been around as long as Nico and myself, you tend to forget the important details of your life. There are far too many of them to keep track. No… it's the little quirks that stick with you."

Albus nodded appreciatively and sipped the amber liquid.

As the comfortable silence stretched, he didn't fail to notice the way Perenelle's eyes continuously darted towards the window.

"Is he doing something foolish?" queried Albus after finishing his tea. "You seem most unnerved."

The woman nodded. "I'm worried. Night after night he stands on that rock, screaming at the sky, begging the heavens to strike him. This storm has lingered for weeks and he hasn't come down since its beginning. Something is eating at his heart… yet he tells me nothing. Never before have I felt like Nico has been keeping secrets from me and yet… now… when I question his motivations, he answers in riddles."

"Indeed," mused Albus, standing to peer out the window. "I quite know the feeling. That is the reason for my visit. No longer will he be able to avoid addressing my queries through letters. I've come for the answers that I am long overdue."

"I doubt he will give you what you seek, Alby," said Perenelle calmly. "Even in our final years, he still seems to believe that he must quietly carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. The two of you are so very alike in that sense."

"Nonetheless, I will ask... and I will be forceful if I must."

The woman sighed and collected the teacups. "I'll not have any brawling inside my house, young man."

Albus smiled at her. "I wouldn't dream of it. Would you be so kind as to point me in his direction?"

Perenelle nodded towards the back of the hut. "He's at the far end of the beach. You can't miss the stone he's raised.

"My thanks, Perenelle," said Albus, bowing out of the hut. "Should I be able to knock some sense into your husband, I'll bring him straight back to you."

"Oh… alright… but _do_ be gentle, Alby. You'll wound his pride if you trounce him too thoroughly."

Albus trudged back into the storm and apparated along the length of the visible beach until he reached the famous Land's End arch that marked the southernmost tip of the Baja Peninsula.

Perenelle had been right. It would have been impossible to miss the massive tower of shale that jutted from the middle of the ocean like a dull, unlit lighthouse. It rose hundreds of feet into the air, its black outline splitting the stormy sky in twain. Waves crashed and broke against its base with all the fury of the angered sea, flinging icy spray right to the beach's edge.

And at the top of the tower… there stood a man; an _enormous_ man; a man whose shadowy silhouette was thrice the size of even the largest giants.

The ferocious howl of the noisy storm was very nearly drowned in the ear-splitting _BOOM_ that was the giant's voice.

"**COME ON! **_**HIT ME!**_** I'M RIGHT HERE!"**

Albus staggered as the sound waves broke over the beach, rattling his eardrums painfully.

"**WHAT ARE YOU? SHOW ME! STRIKE ME DOWN!"**

The giant withdrew what looked to be a metal wand from his billowing robes and held it skyward.

"**I AM A KEEPER OF MYSTERIES! I **_**HAVE**_** SEEN THE RUNE! I AM THE ONCOMING STORM AND I COMMAND YOU TO **_**HIT ME!**_**"**

The skies rumbled. The clouds swelled.

A bolt of lightning brighter than the sun slammed into the giant man, the sound of its thunder shaking the earth beneath Albus' feet.

The giant screamed in both agony and triumph as the white-hot spines swirled around his body rather than dissipating into the earth. The blinding lines of superheated electricity slowly coalesced into a ball above the tower, shrinking and spiraling until they were naught but a tiny speck of compressed light.

The giant shrank as well; shrank to the size of a normal man.

Seeing that there was now space atop the precarious stone tower, Albus apparated to its summit.

Nicolas stood at the edge of the rock, casually holding a small ball of lightning within his fist as he stared out at the ocean. The lightning's oddly _chilly_ light crackled through the gaps in his fingertips.

He looked rather like a weary, yet resigned sentinel that had been stationed at his post for far too long.

"Stormcatching?" asked Albus quietly, eyeing the slim, metal wand in Nicolas' pocket. "However did you manage it?"

Nicolas chuckled. "An American wizard that was quite fond of flying kites during lightning storms once crafted himself a curious little wand. It's not good for much… but it's certainly useful for _this_ particular task. After weeks of unsuccessful attempts… I thought I might borrow it for a few days. Now… how might I be of service to you, Albus?"

"You know why I'm here," he replied calmly, as if Nicolas had _not_ just performed one of the most difficult feats of magic known to wizardkind. "You've been keeping secrets from me."

"Yes," muttered the snowy-haired man, turning his collar upwards against the rain. "Yes I have… but not of my own volition. You are familiar with the code of the Unspeakables? I will not sacrifice my magic just to satisfy your curiosity, boy."

"You were never an Unspeakable," protested Albus.

Nicolas turned to face him, an amused smile smeared across his face. "No… _I wasn't_. How very _curious_."

"I bid you not play games with me, teacher," said Albus sternly, mustering his remaining power. "I wish to know what lies beyond the seven locked doors apart from the Twilight Archives. I wish to know about the rune that follows in Harriet's wake. Tell me of _Horcruxes_, Nicolas. Tell me everything you know. And do be aware that your wife has given me leeway to set you straight. I _will_ do so should you not provide me with information."

"Don't you _threaten_ me, Albus. Look at my hand. I carry a fistful of _lightning_; lightning soaked in the magic of life itself. This storm is _bursting_ with it in every plane of existence; this storm is _wrong._ A fully-fledged tropical hurricane in Cabo? Weather gone mad all over the planet? The whole _world_ is wrong. Powers are at work here; powers beyond even _my_ understanding. Decide to fight me… make me unleash this… and you will _hear_ the sound of its future clash reverberating back through time itself."

"So… you will not tell me?" asked Albus, thumbing his wand. "You will not share your knowledge?"

Nicolas shook his head. "No. I'm sorry. Not this time. Trust me when I say that it is not your business to know such things. _Were_ it your business, I would have told you; _could_ have told you. Do you think I enjoy keeping such secrets from my wife? Do you think I enjoy keeping them from a man I consider as a son? Knowledge isn't power, Albus. Knowledge is silent suffering; knowledge is _pain_."

"These are just words to me, Nicolas. Far too many things are spinning out of my control. Gellert is pulling on strings that I have yet to discover; lurking in shadows I cannot see. I _must_ know what he knows; what _you_ know… and I _will_ take the information by force if it comes to that."

"I'd like to see you try, boy," laughed the white-haired man. "At your _full_ strength, I have no doubt you would best me time and again… _but_… it seems to me like Riddle has drained you dry."

"Not quite," wheezed Albus, flicking the Elder Wand defiantly.

The ocean surged at his command, following the movements of his wandtip. Behind Nicolas a maelstrom began to churn, waterspouts fell from the sky, and a wave the size of the rock tower itself grew in the distance.

His former Master grinned. "Fifty years since I've had a good fight, Albus. Let us make a wager. If _you_ win, I shall sacrifice my magic and give you the information you seek, thus living out my remaining days as a muggle. Should _I_ win, you shall provide me with a year's supply of Lemon Drops and trust me to do what needs to be done."

"You have yourself a deal, my friend," muttered Albus. "Shall we?"

Nicolas raised the crackling ball of lightning.

"Yes… let's."

There was a sound of thunder.

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**I was approaching 34k words when I realized that I absolutely HAD to split this chapter in half. The next should be out in a day or two.**

**Reviews are always appreciated.**

**New art. **

A quick note about Ginny: I'm trying to write Ickle Gin as being extremely conflicted. She wants to make her Harry happy... but she's a kid and doesn't understand how to do that or how to satisfy her _own_ needs. A part of her wants to be the only one Harry wants, while a part of her is afraid to be. A part of her is afraid of losing Harry if she doesn't wholly accept her, while a part of her doesn't want to acknowledge that tidbit about her best friend. So she fluctuates around reciprocating Harry's sexuality and rejecting it. We have to remember that the wizarding world is portrayed as being roughly fifty or so years behind Muggles in terms of social and political development. Canon vaguely implies that despite being good, honest people, the Weasleys are still an old, traditional sort of family. I find it extremely implausible that it would be easy for a thirteen year old Ginny to accept that she might be nontraditional. Only the more level-headed Weasleys, like Arthur, are going to be able to deal with unexpected changes without blowing a gasket every now and then.


	25. Chapter 22: Twelve Turns to the Left

The previous chapter continued!

I meant to have this out quickly, but I kept getting frustrated with it.

**Chapter 22: Twelve Turns to the Left**

_You can't own me, but you can use me. You can't keep me, but you can spend me. Once you've lost me, you can never get me back._

_What am I?_

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"So… you're going to _leave_?" asked Aberforth angrily. "You're going to abandon Ariana simply because _he_ wants you to help him search for some wand? We need you _here!_ I can't take care of her on my own!"

The blonde stepped between them, leveling his wand at Aberforth's face. "Your insolence is astounding. Albus and I are going to change the world! We'll find the Hallows and rise above the oppression der machtlosen, elevating wizardkind to its rightful place! Ariana won't have to be shut away in the new order that we create. Her power, however unstable, will be revered! All that we do is for the Greater Good and I'll not let _anyone_ stand in our way!"

"The two of you will cease this prattering at once," commanded Albus, hugging a crying Ariana to his side. "It is _my_ choice… and I shall make it as I see fit."

"Choice?" hissed Gellert, spinning towards him with a murderous glint in his eye. "_Du hast keine Wahl!_ Two _years_ we have been planning, Albus! I will _not_ let you throw away our glorious future!"

Ariana ran to Gellert and threw her arms around the boy's waist. "Don't go, Gelly! I don't want you and Alby to leave! Stay!"

"_Lass mich!"_ spat the blonde, pushing Ariana away from him.

Albus moaned in dismay as his sister stumbled over her own feet and fell to the ground, lightly bumping her head on the wall. Ariana curled into a ball, flinching as if invisible fists were striking her from head to toe. When he reached down to comfort her, she let out an ear-splitting, heart-wrenching shriek of anguish and the windows of their house exploded outward in a shower of glass.

Roaring his fury, Aberforth lunged at Gellert, sending them both careening into the dining room table.

"LOOK WHAT YOU DID, YOU SODDING NANCY!" screamed his brother, pummeling every inch of the blonde that he could reach. "SHE WAS GETTING BETTER! SHE HADN'T HAD AN EPISODE IN _MONTHS!_"

"That is enough!" cried Albus, flicking his wand, causing the two scuffling boys to separate and zoom to opposite sides of the room. "Gellert, please… just go. You're only making things worse. I need to deal with this. I'll send word soon."

Gellert's bright blue eyes widened and then narrowed. "You will _not_ choose _them_ over _me_. We made a pact. Do you need reminding?"

The boy raised his wand.

Albus calmly swatted away the bolt of orange light that shot towards him and readied himself for yet another bout of dealing with Gellert's short temper.

Unfortunately, the rebounding spell slammed directly into Aberforth's shoulder.

His brother screamed in agony as his arm was dislocated. Eyes flashing with anger and pain, Aberforth returned fire, not at Gellert, but at Albus himself.

Chaos ensued.

Spells flew in every direction, ripping the house to shreds.

And then…

Albus awoke with a shuddering gasp and quickly flipped the hourglass, losing himself in pleasant memory before the image of his sister's unseeing eyes could fully take shape.

"Still having that dream, are you?" asked a familiar voice.

"It's always the same," breathed Albus wearily, gaze darting around the darkened cabin. "Always more vivid than my actual memory."

"Dreams always are, boy."

Groaning tiredly, he tried to sit up, but his muscles seemed unwilling to respond. "I take it you won our duel?"

Nicolas walked around the couch upon which Albus had been laid and fell into an armchair beside the crackling fire. "If having your opponent collapse from exhaustion can be considered winning… then yes, I won. You put up a rather marvelous fight. I particularly enjoyed the flock of enraged songbirds; beautiful, yet fearsome. Perenelle spent hours healing my pecked skin. That said… I do expect you to honor our agreement."

"You really won't tell me?" wheezed Albus, finding it hard to breathe. "So much is at stake."

"When the time comes for you to know, you will know," replied the white-haired man sagely. "When the Elixir of Life first touched my lips, I had a vision; a vision of what I had to become. I was chosen for this, Albus. It is _my_ responsibility to watch over the locked doors, for _I_ was the man who locked them."

Bustling into the small living room, Perenelle knelt at Albus' side and tipped a blue potion into his mouth.

Bit-by-bit, feeling returned to his body and a modicum of mobility stirred in his limbs. With the kindhearted woman's aid, he was able to drag himself into an upright position.

"Thank you, Perenelle. You are still the most gifted potion maker I have ever had the pleasure to meet."

"You're quite lucky Nico brought you back to me in time," she said softly, sponging his brow with a wet cloth. "Your heart _failed_, Alby. I never would have let you go out into that storm had I known you were on the verge of depleting your magic."

Albus smiled at her. "I'm afraid that nothing you could have said or done would have prevented me. I'm quite stubborn."

Chuckling wryly, the white-haired beauty patted his cheek and sauntered back into the palm-thatched kitchen.

"Most remarkable," he mumbled. "Seven decades later and she hasn't changed at all."

Nicolas nodded appreciatively at his wife. "Yes, although… one tends to stop changing after the first millennia."

As the night and storm wore on, Albus slowly regained the ability to stand. His limbs creaking and groaning from the effort, he was able to haltingly move about the cabin for short periods of time.

"You know…" mused Nicolas wistfully. "I've never quite gotten accustomed to seeing you as an old man. You hide your age so well. It seems like only yesterday that your hair was as red as blood and you were begging me to take you as an apprentice of the Circles."

Albus opened his mouth to reply, but when the flames within the fireplace suddenly began to crackle and flare high above the mantle, he lost his train of thought.

With a small pop, a tiny ball of red and gold feathers shot out of the fire and tumbled across the carpet, coughing out soot.

"I see you've been into my candies again, Fawkes," said Albus sternly. "Your sweet tooth knows no bounds."

Fawkes peered up at him dubiously, as if to say, _'I don't have any idea what you're talking about, you barmy old coot.'_

Albus scooped up the newborn phoenix and stroked the single plume that rose from its head. "That won't work on me anymore, old friend. This is the sixth time. You can't expect me to believe that you _still_ don't know that you're deathly allergic to Ice Mice."

Fawkes trilled with indifference and nipped his finger urgently.

"Whatever is the matter with you? You've never been this excitable after a burning."

The scarlet chick ruffled its downy feathers, scattering ash all over his' hands. With three quick strokes of his talons, Fawkes drew a small shape in the black residue.

Albus felt the blood drain from his face.

In the middle of his palm... there sat a lightning bolt.

_Harry._

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The black-haired girl leaned away from the redhead that was currently trying to clamber into her lap.

"Gin… _stop_. People are staring."

"So?" muttered Ginny. "I don't care about them."

Ron moaned his exasperation. "Ginny! Let Harry eat in peace! Today's match isn't just for the cup! It'll decide which team gets to represent Hogwarts in the summer tournament! Do you _know_ what the prize for that tournament is? Quidditch World Cup tickets for the entire family of every winning team member! FREE! _FOR LIFE!_ Even the teams that _lose_ get tickets to this year's Cup just for participating!"

"Your point is?" asked the girl.

Ron brandished his spoon threateningly. "My point is… _bugger off!_ This is a bloody important match and Harry needs her strength!"

Ginny slung an arm around her sibling's shoulders. "And why aren't you concerned about _me_, brother dear? _I'm_ on the team too."

Ron snickered into his porridge. "Yeah, well… s'not like you're going to get a chance to actually play. Two Chasers have to go down before the reserve comes in. And even if you _do_ get to play, you'll only get to field until Pomfrey fixes up the injured players. You're a space-holder."

"And _you're_ an arse," said the freckled girl, shoving him roughly. "Harry… _you_ don't think I'm a space-holder, do you?"

"Of course not," replied Harry expressionlessly. "I… The _team_ needs you."

Hermione raised her book higher to shield her scowl from the rest of the breakfast table. For the first time in her life, she didn't want to have _anything_ to do with her friends. The three of them were so… _infuriating_. Even their more normal conversations reflected their ridiculous behavior.

While Ginny had been going out of her way to be overly friendly with Harry, hanging off the girl at every possible moment, Harry had been going out of her way to _avoid_ being overly friendly with Ginny, shying away from their seemingly innate ability to shower the other with affection. And Ron… well, Ron had been going out of his way to remain completely oblivious to anything remotely dramatic happening between the four of them.

To Hermione's eyes, it was quite obvious… yet no one else apart from herself seemed to be able to see that Harry and Ginny were in love. She had _always_ suspected… but she had never _quite_ been sure until now. In the two months since Harry had shared with her the secret desires she harbored, seeing the two girls interact with each other was like watching puzzle pieces falling neatly into place. The inner workings of their complex, codependent relationship suddenly began to make sense.

They were _obsessed_ with each other really; almost unhealthily so. Ginny's clear-cut abandonment issues were spurred onwards by Harry's clingy personality, while the black-haired girl's desire for love was in turn _fueled_ by the obscene amount of affection that Ginny smothered her with due to the fear that Harry would abandon her. It was a vicious circle of dependency that would likely never break.

And thus, Hermione didn't understand how their actions could _continue_ to defy logic day after day. The solution to all of their problems was right in from of them, yet they _refused_ to see the light.

Ginny was fiercely convinced that she wasn't attracted to Harry, yet that _clearly_ wasn't the case. Her amber gaze was almost _always_ glued upon the black-haired girl… _especially _after pointedly turning the conversation to Michael Corner. It seemed to Hermione that the redhead didn't know or care very much about her boyfriend at all. Whenever she spoke of him, it was always detailed descriptions about the _physical_ aspects of their relationship. It was like she was simply trying to get a rise out of Harry through jealousy and sex appeal.

To Hermione's chagrin, Harry refused to take action. She _refused_ to make advances on the person she so desperately wanted. She had told Hermione _over_ and _over_ that if Ginny wanted to be with her, then the redhead would have to be the one to initiate intimacy, because Harry would 'never be able to let go if she let herself believe that Ginny wanted her, even when she really didn't.'

It was utter _nonsense_.

What upset her most about the entire ordeal was the way Harry _clung_ to Ron when she was _clearly_ arse-over-elbow for his sister. Hermione _knew_ that Ron and Harry could be happy together. They loved each other. They did. But she had a feeling that if Ginny suddenly decided she wanted Harry, the black-haired girl would likely be able to cast aside her feelings for the boy.

And _that_ was wrong.

Ron was funny, and loving, and handsome… he was everything Hermione wanted. His smile made her dizzy. His gaze made her heart throb. _She_ was willing to give anything to have him. It simply wouldn't be fair if he were to become Harriet Potter's consolation prize.

Of course, Ron himself was another problem. To Hermione's frustration, his idea of _'letting things happen'_ seemed to consist of avoiding said _'things' _entirely. Every time an opportunity arose to show Hermione real affection, he shied from it awkwardly.

The noisy arrival of the morning post jolted her from her thoughts. She was delighted to see the school owl she had sent to her parents soaring towards her with a return letter in its beak.

Hermione fed the tawny some bacon, stroked its feathers, and untied the neatly-sealed envelope.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Yes, of course. You can stay with them as long as you'd like. The Weasleys are wonderful people. While we would love to have some extra time with you, we know we can't keep you to ourselves all summer long._

_How are your classes coming along? I'm so happy you're keeping busy and not letting your interest in a certain young man hinder your studies. Yes… your mother told me. As much as I liked the boy when he came to visit, he seemed a bit… lackadaisical._

_All the love in the world,_

_Dad_

"Lackadaisical? What does _that_ mean? It doesn't seem good."

Hermione jumped.

_Ron_ had been reading over her shoulder.

"Why did you- That was… This was _private_! It was none of your business!"

Ron smiled nervously. "But… it was about _me_ though, wasn't it?"

Swelling with indignant fury, Hermione rolled up the Daily Prophet that had landed in front of her and proceeded to fiercely beat the boy about the head with her makeshift bludgeoning stick.

"You are the most _inconsiderate_ arse I have _ever_ met, Ronald Weasley!"

"OUCH!" cried the redhead. "_Oi!_ I'm sorry alright?"

"Mione?"

"Sorry isn't good enough!" shouted Hermione, landing a particularly fierce wallop. "There is _no_ apology that can excuse you from reading someone else's personal correspondence without their permission!"

"_Mione?"_

"I can't _believe_ you, Ron! How would _you_ like it if I read the letters from your mother?"

"But… you _do_ the read the letters from my mother!" protested Ron weakly, shielding his head from the newspaper.

"Yes! But only because you _give_ them to me after I ask you what she's written about! You were perfectly in your rights to refuse!"

"HERMIONE?"

"_WHAT_, HARRY?" she spat lividly, spinning to face the girl. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

Seemingly undisturbed by both Hermione's rage and the disciplinary beating of Ron, Harry held up a folded bit of parchment and asked calmly, "Did you _send_ me this? Circe just delivered it."

Hermione eyed the unfamiliar parchment. She was slightly dumbfounded by the ridiculousness of the question. "Of course I didn't send it to you, Harry. Why would I need to _send_ you a letter? You're right here."

"I have no idea," supplied Harry. "But… it's definitely your handwriting… and our secrecy runes are scribbled in the corner. All it says is '_Midnight; twelve turns to the left.'_ What does that mean?"

Hermione froze, her heart catching in her throat as her mind began to whirl.

_Oh no…_

_Did I…_

_I couldn't have._

_But…_

_Oh my God…_

_I did._

Harry held out the parchment. "Here, look."

Hermione shrieked and slapped the girl's hand away. "Don't show it to me! I… I have to go! Don't follow me! And… And _burn_ that letter!"

Running for both _her_ life and the lives of everyone else in the castle, Hermione bolted back to Gryffindor Tower to lock herself securely in her room.

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"What the bloody hell was that?" grumbled Ron, rubbing his head as Hermione sprinted out of the Great Hall. "Mad as a bat, she is."

Harry frowned at the letter in her hands. It was definitely from Hermione; all the ends of the 'T's had the girl's familiar swoosh, which Harry had never seen anyone else use.

"Midnight," murmured Ginny, slipping her arm around Harry's waist. "That's a bit vague, isn't it? Midnight when? Where? And what are you supposed to be turning?"

"Dunno," answered Harry stiffly, trying not to enjoy the way Ginny fingers had slid between the hems of her jumper and skirt. "Hermione seemed to know. She looked a bit scared, didn't she? It must be important, because she told us to _burn_ it."

Ron sat up straight. "Well, burn it and let's go! It's almost time for the match!"

Harry grinned, put the parchment on her cleaned plate, and lit the tip with a muttered "_Incendio_."

The only time she could completely forget about her problems, namely Ginny, was during Quidditch. The rush of the game simply didn't allow room for any thought pertaining to regular life.

"I don't understand how _you_ can be so excited, Ron," said Ginny as they exited the dining hall. "You're just going to be sitting in the rain. You probably won't even be able to see the pitch."

Ron shrugged. "Doesn't bother me. Lee's a great commentator. Listening to him argue with McGonagall is almost as entertaining as the matches."

"A part of me wishes I could watch from the stands too," mumbled Harry, using Ron's broad body to shield herself from the downpour of rain as they trudged out of the castle. "This weather is awful. Spotting the snitch is going to be bloody impossible."

Jumping onto Harry's back, Ginny said cheerily, "Well, if _you_ can't spot it, then neither will Malfoy."

Harry shivered as Ginny casually gripped her breast in an effort to better hold on to her. It didn't take a genius to figure out what the redhead was doing; she had been doing it for two months after all.

They parted ways with Ron outside the locker room. As soon as the boy was safely out of earshot, Harry dropped Ginny unceremoniously and whirled around, flinging raindrops in every direction.

"You're being _ridiculous! _Stop it! I mean it!"

Ginny pulled back her sopping wet hair, folded her arms, and stared at Harry defiantly.

"No thanks."

"No thanks?" scoffed Harry angrily. "This is the last time I'm going to say it. You're going to stop this here and now."

"I bloody well won't," hissed Ginny, losing her calm. "I _hate_ the way you're acting! I hate this fake persona you've adopted! If I wanted a best friend that was stiff and unfeeling, I'd go spend time with Pansy Parkinson. I want _my_ Harry!"

Harry shoved her… _hard_. "You _know_ that I need to deal with this!"

Ginny shoved right back. "Well, I'm not going to let you if it turns you into a frigid cunt!

Something snapped in Harry's brain and she quite literally saw red.

Voldemort's claws sank into her anger, suffocating her with his poisonous rage.

Even though she was considerably more adept at managing her negative emotions with four months of Occlumency under her belt, she still occasionally lost control... almost periodically. It was akin to an over-inflated balloon popping from too much pressure.

This was one of those times.

Harry dove at her best friend, wanting nothing more than to pummel the girl into a pulp.

Ginny, however, was ready for her. She dodged sideways, looped an arm around Harry's neck, and promptly trapped her in a headlock.

"Calm down," hushed the redhead, dragging her through the mud into the dark enclosure beneath the stands. "Listen to my heart, Harry."

Harry clawed, punched, and bit at every inch of Ginny she could reach… but… eventually, with the steady thrumming of a strong, clear pulse pounding against her ear, her anger began to dissipate and the claws faded away.

"Better?" whispered Ginny, slowly releasing her from the chokehold. "Is he gone?"

Harry nodded morosely, rubbing at her bruised neck. "Yeah. That _really_ hurt, Gin."

"I didn't mean to," mumbled the girl guiltily. "Having six brothers has taught me a bit too much about headlocks."

"A _bit_?" asked Harry, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice. "I reckon you could give Dudley a run for his money."

"I'm _sorry._ I was angry. I still am. Your idea of spending time apart is lousy. You're pushing me away and I hate it. I _hate_ it, Harry! It feels like I'm losing you again, but instead of being locked away in a cell, you've been locked away inside your own body."

"But… what else can I do?" she whispered. "I don't know how to stop wanting you."

"Then _don't,_" pleaded Ginny, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling her close. "I just… I _want_ you to want me. I know that's awful, but I can't help it. It makes me feel so… _warm_… and… and happy."

With a resigned sigh, Harry leaned into the girl's soft chest. "That's not fair. It's not fair and you know it. You have Michael and I-"

"Michael broke up with me yesterday morning."

Harry stiffened. _"W-What?"_

Ginny shrugged. "He said I wasn't paying attention to him. I was miffed all day, but when he still waved at me during Dinner, I realized that he was right. I just don't find him that interesting and he's far too nice to deserve that. So… I'm not really upset."

"That doesn't change anything," she muttered obstinately, trying to absorb the sudden revelation that Ginny was no longer in a relationship with Mr. Floppy-Hair. "You still can't expect me to pine after you while you parade a string of boyfriends in front of my face."

Before Ginny could reply, someone from inside the locker rooms shouted, "WHERE THE HELL ARE POTTER AND WEASLEY?"

"Come on," mumbled Harry. "We'll finish this later."

The redhead nodded tersely. "Count on it."

Putting their argument on hold, they marched into the changing room. To say that Oliver was flipping his lid was a severe understatement. It almost looked like he was attacking the chalkboard as he rapidly covered every bit of its surface with a jumble of intricate, overlapping diagrams.

"You two! Where the bloody- no… never mind! Get changed! The game starts in ten and we need to go over the poor-weather tactics!"

Ginny gave the boy a rigid salute and yanked Harry into the girl's lockers.

Try as she might to avoid watching her friend strip, Harry's gaze kept finding its way back to Ginny's wet body. The water droplets from the redhead's hair were streaming down her freckled curves in long, glistening trails.

Harry couldn't stop herself from comparing the sight to one of Florean Fortescue's strawberry and peanut-butter sundaes; Ginny's freckled skin was the mismatched ice-cream, the water was the melted chocolate dripping down the sides, and her shiny hair was the cherry-on-top.

"See something you like?" asked the redhead cheekily, unbuckling the clasp of her bra.

"Sorry," muttered Harry bleakly, averting her eyes.

Ginny wriggled into her jersey, straddled the bench, and glared at Harry angrily. "Why are you apologizing? _My_ Harry wouldn't have apologized. _My _Harry would have blushed furiously and commanded that I change faster, but she would have watched all she liked."

Harry grumbled bitterly, snapped on her boots, and moved to rejoin the team in the adjacent room, but Ginny dove on her and wrapped her in a monstrous hug. Although this particular embrace was physically no different than the vast number of those that came before it, this one simply felt more… _intimate_.

"What is this for?" asked Harry breathlessly. "I thought you were mad."

"I _am_ mad," whispered Ginny, placing a lingering kiss on Harry's cheek that tingled long after her lips had left it. "I'm beyond mad… but I still love you. I hate fighting, Harry. Please stop this."

"How can I? How can you expect me to? Come on, they're waiting for us."

"No," mumbled the redhead, pushing her up against the lockers, "not yet. I want you to be _you!_ I hate watching you slip away from me! You're… You're everything to me, Harry."

"Not everything," she said softly. "Not what I want to be."

Ginny touched her forehead to Harry's. "You're so sure that someday you're going to somehow become less important to me. But… for you to become second rate in my eyes, I'd need to find someone I care about _more_ than I care about you. I don't think that could _ever_ happen, Harry. Not after everything we've been through together." The girl cupped Harry's cheek. "No one can replace you."

"Then why don't you _want_ me, Gin?" cried Harry as the inhibitions she had worked so hard to put up crashed down around her under Ginny's touch. She wrapped her arms behind the girl's neck for support as her legs trembled precariously. "What if… What if I cut my hair? What if I made myself look like a boy?"

Ginny tensed and her amber eyes became very round, but after a moment's pause, she fiercely shook her head. "I don't want you to pretend to be someone you're not. That's what you're doing now. I just want _my_ Harry back. I just want you to… I… I want…"

But what Ginny wanted Harry never found out.

"Oi! You two! What's taking so l-"

As Katie came around the corner, the redhead sprang away from Harry's body like a frightened cat, her ears rapidly turning redder than her hair.

A coy grin spread across Katie's face as her gaze flicked back and forth between them. "_Right._ Well, there'll be plenty of time for… _celebrating_… after the match. Come on. Ollie's about to have an aneurysm."

Without looking at either of them, Ginny quickly followed the girl from the room.

Given that it was his last official game at Hogwarts, Wood's pre-game pep-talk was even more ridiculously impassioned than usual. With a grandiose finale chock-full of shouting and exclamation, he announced that McGonagall had appointed Angelina as next year's captain and then marched them out towards the pitch.

Harry paused beneath the scarlet curtain, noticing that Ginny had remained behind.

The freckled girl was staring blankly at the wall, as if she had just been made privy to a rather shocking revelation.

"Gin? Are you coming?"

"In... In a moment," whispered the redhead haltingly. "J-Just feeling a bit queasy. It's an important match. I might actually have to play."

Harry nodded and left the tent. It was obvious that she was being lied to, but she didn't have time to get Ginny to tell the truth. The game was starting.

"Merlin's _fucking_ balls…" muttered Draco bad-temperedly as Harry took her place beside him on the pitch, "I _detest_ rain. Fifty galleons to whoever spots the snitch first in this shite."

Harry mounted her broom. "Well, that's fifty galleons in my pocket then, yeah?"

"You wish," drawled the blonde quietly. "I need to talk to you after the match. It's important. Meet me at the usual spot… and _do_ bring the galleons you'll owe me."

"I'll be there… but no tricks," warned Harry, watching Madam Hooch release the snitch and toss the quaffle into the air. "Swear it."

The boy smirked and made an 'x' across his chest, just like Harry had done the day they first met.

"Cross my heart."

Lightning flashed. The shrill sound of Hooch's whistle could barely be heard over the rolling boom of accompanying thunder.

Harry kicked off the ground hard, using Draco's bent knee as a foothold that allowed her to instantly break through the formation of the Slytherin Chasers, thus gaining possession for Gryffindor.

She had long ago learned that Marcus Flint was a lost cause when it came to crafting strategy. His plan was always the same: take out the Seeker. Unfortunately for Slytherin, it never worked. Harry rode astride the fastest broom ever made and she was far too accustomed to pain to let a few broken bones stop her from flying. After the first twenty minutes of unsuccessful attempts to physically injure her, Derrick and Bole gave up and returned to their tennis match with Fred and George, leaving Harry free to search for the snitch. The rain, however, made finding the golden ball virtually impossible. Water pounded down around Harry with such fury that she could only see thirty feet in any given direction.

Forty minutes into the game, Harry heard the Gryffindor stands collectively gasp and groan.

Hooch's whistle blew and Oliver called a timeout.

Wearily landing in the mud, Harry trooped over to the large circle of players that had gathered near the Slytherin goalposts and squeezed her way to the front of the crowd.

The sight that lay before her wasn't a pretty one. Madam Pomfrey was quickly waving her wand over the prone forms of Alicia and Angelina. The tall, dark-skinned girl was bleeding profusely from a large gash on her forehead while Alicia's legs were twisted at the most gruesome angle Harry had ever seen. Broken bones were visibly sticking out of her skin.

"You _bastard!_" shouted Fred, who was being physically restrained by his twin while attempting to lunge at the hulking form of Adrian Pucey. "You could have killed her!"

"Calm down, Weasley," snarled the boy. "Johnson can take a hit. She doesn't need her lover-boy defending her honor."

To a nearly-crying Katie, Harry asked gently, "What happened? I couldn't see. It's like staring into soup up there."

"Pucey kicked Ange in the head," answered the older girl, trying and failing to not look at the vast amount of blood that covered Alicia's lower body. "She spiraled right into Alicia and they both hit the goalpost at top speed. Hooch managed to levitate Angelina… but… but Alicia she… she hit the ground. Oh Merlin… I'm… I'm going to be sick."

Harry made no effort to stop the girl from running off.

"They've both lost a large amount of blood and Miss Spinnet has gone into shock," announced Madam Pomfrey to a dismayed Wood after several minutes of mending bones and flesh. "I'm sorry… but they'll need quite a bit of work."

"_No!"_ cried Oliver miserably. "Our reserve Chaser has _bloody_ disappeared!"

Somewhat startled, Harry searched the faces of the crowd.

Wood was right.

Ginny was nowhere to be seen.

Stripping off her right bracer, Harry rolled up her sleeve and held out her arm.

The tip of her quill charm wasn't pointed towards the locker rooms or stands, but towards Hagrid's hut. Her eyes darted quickly to the teacher's booth. She was intensely relieved when she saw that Hagrid's massive form was decidedly absent.

_Well, I'm glad you're with someone and not sulking… but… blimey… Is the thought of Katie assuming that we were kissing REALLY upsetting enough to make you run away from the most important Quidditch match we've ever had?_

"It's alright, Ollie," muttered Harry as she snapped her equipment back into place, feeling somewhat bitter that Ginny found the idea of a simple kiss so disturbing. "We _don't_ need her."

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The black-haired girl smiled innocently at him as she dutifully handed over the galleons. "A small price to pay for my obligatory World Cup ticket."

"Don't look so pleased with yourself," drawled Draco, pocketing his winnings. "I would have caught it if I were riding a Firebolt as well. I had a five second lead on that dive."

"You slowed down and then pulled up too early," said Harry lightly, walking over to examine the massive scorch mark that she had burned into the wall of the trophy room the previous year. "I _still_ would have reached it first if I had been on a Nimbus."

"Well… do excuse me for not wanting to crash into the ground and break a rib."

"Five ribs," corrected the girl proudly, stroking the blackened stone. "And that's why you're never going to be able to beat me... no matter _what_ broom I'm riding. I sacrificed my body to do what needed to be done. Professor Babbling told me that sometimes unexpected choices have to be made in the heat of the moment; that things don't always go as planned when you're fighting a war. That's what Quidditch is; it's a war."

He sidled up behind her. "You're mad. It's just a game."

Harry shook her head. "Not to me. I don't really know why I take it so seriously. Maybe it's because I know my Dad is watching every game. Or maybe it's because it makes me feel free, never to be trapped in a cupboard again. Or… Or maybe it's because she said I'd make a great Seeker."

"Who?"

Harry shrugged and pulled her still slightly-wet hair into a messy bun. "Don't mind me… I'm rambling."

The scent of fresh pine wafted past his nose as the girl tried to straighten the mess of strands atop her head. Draco bit his lip. His hands itched to run down her sides. Now that she was a healthy weight, the magnificent bum that had taken shape at the end of the previous year had returned to its former, shapely glory. Even though the majority of Slytherin males hated her with a passion, there wasn't a one among them that wouldn't admit Harriet Potter had a _fantastic_ arse; the one thing that Pansy lacked.

Draco _so_ wished he could have them both. Even their bodies were two sides of the same coin; a coin that belonged to _him_.

Harry had the form of a natural athlete; she was nothing special chest-wise, but her legs and backside were like works of art. She was smooth, firm, and lean, yet soft in all the right places. Pansy on the other hand was the epitome of idealized femininity. She was delicate, soft all over, top-heavy, and barely had any muscle tone. The only exercise his wife-to-be ever participated in was walking through the halls.

They were exact opposites, yet equal in beauty and appeal. They were so different, but so alike.

And… he loved them; both of them.

Draco's arm twitched forward.

Harry whirled around so fast that the hair she had just fixed into a bun flew out of its tie. She whipped out her wand, her eyes flashing dangerously, yet twinkling at the same time.

The wandtip found his groin.

"I'll say this once, Draco. If you _ever_ touch me like that without my permission, you'll be losing this in the most painful way I can think of. I'm not your plaything and I'm _certainly_ not your girlfriend."

Draco groaned. "You were reading my mind?"

"Of _course_ I was. Even though I trust you, don't assume that I'm going to let my guard down when we're alone. You have too many ties to the people that would love to see me dead."

"You… _trust me?_" asked Draco slowly, not quite able to believe what he was hearing. "Why?"

Harry smiled and lowered her wand. "Well… I suppose it's because you willingly saved Ginny. You're a good person on the inside, but a nasty bastard on the outside. Unlike a certain Hogwarts professor who fits that description, you're kind to me and you're trying to change. Isn't that reason enough to trust you? Are you saying I shouldn't?"

"N-No," he stuttered. "It's fine. I was just a bit surprised."

The girl nodded. "Alright then. What did you want to talk to me about?"

For a brief moment, as he stared into her bright, emerald eyes, he couldn't remember what it was he needed to tell her.

_That green... I know what it is… and now I wish I didn't. Killing curse green shouldn't be so… attractive._

"Oi," said Harry, poking him in the chest with her wand. "There's a party in the Gryffindor common room and you're making me late. I need to tell Ginny that she's going to the World Cup… if she's back from Hagrid's that is. I can't believe she ran out like that. She might not even want to talk to me. She might even-"

"I'm afraid that will have to wait," interrupted Draco, having no desire to listen to the girl blather on about the Weaslette. "I'm here to relay the request of one Mr. Blaise Zabini. He wishes to take you up on your offer before he transfers to Durmstrang. You haven't forgotten, have you?"

Harry's expression turned stony. "No, I haven't… but I hoped maybe _he_ had."

Draco casually leaned against a large suit of armor. "You killed his father… well… stepfather, but the only father he's ever known. You put Blaise's immediate family into the poorhouse. His mother can't get a job… so she'll have to remarry into a family with the money to support five children… and who knows if she'll be able to pull it off. She's not quite the looker she used to be. Basically, Harry, you ruined his life. People tend to remember things like that."

"_I_ didn't ruin his life," said the girl quietly. "_Voldemort_ did."

"Technicalities," he drawled. "Blaise is a Slytherin. He thinks like a Slytherin. That mad bit inside you is, no pun intended, just a devil in the details. The spell came from your wand and thus, in his eyes, _you're_ at fault."

Her teeth visibly clenching, she turned away from him and mumbled bitterly, "I know I am. Is that all?"

"He's waiting in the forest as we speak and he'll meet you on the main trail. He says to come alone and come immediately just like you promised you would. If you don't, unpleasant things will soon be happening to those you hold dear and I'm relatively sure that he's _not_ making empty threats. However, if you go, he'll likely not have his people harm them. He's a bastard, but an honorable bastard. It's your choice."

Harry chuckled hollowly and black sparks shot out of her wandtip, marring the stone floor. "_So_… trap?"

"Trap," agreed Draco. "I wish I could tell you what Blaise has lined up for you, but unfortunately, I really don't know. I tried to glean a bit more when I first heard that he was calling in shady favors to all of the people that owed his father, but my usual sources of information came up dry."

Harry sighed and withdrew her invisibility cloak from a seemingly bottomless pocket. "Well, thanks for trying, I suppose. I assume there's no point in going to Dumbledore?"

Draco shook his head. "He's gone off somewhere; out of the castle. I wouldn't tell a teacher either if you're set on going. They'll try to interfere and Blaise will likely follow through with his blackmail plan."

"So, I'm on my own then, am I? That's just great."

Draco grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. "You're not on your own… because _I'm_ coming with you."

Harry's stunned look was almost comical as he peeled her fingers off the invisibility cloak and slung it around his shoulders.

"Cat got your tongue?" asked Draco, using his thumb to close her open mouth.

The girl shook her head. "You don't… You don't have to do that for me, Draco."

He shrugged. "I'll be under this cloak… and given its quality, I imagine it can withstand just about anything. I'll be watching your back. I happen to like watching your back."

Even though her eyes narrowed angrily, the corners of her lips turned upwards. "Yes… _I know_. Is that what you lot do in that dungeon? Sit around the fire and talk about my arse?"

Draco smirked. "Well… what can I say? It's a _really_ great arse."

"You're a bastard," muttered Harry, blushing furiously. "Let's get this over with."

Feeling rather pleased with himself for eliciting such a reaction, Draco pulled the hood of the cloak over his head and said slyly, "Well, lead the way. I'll be right behind you… _enjoying the view_."

And enjoy it he did. He enjoyed the way her hair bounced and the way her lascivious hips swayed back and forth. He enjoyed the heart-shaped crease in her jeans. He enjoyed it down three flights of stairs, through the entrance hall, and halfway across the grounds. He enjoyed it right up until Harry's wand once again found itself pointed at his groin.

"The images flashing through your surface thoughts are making me sick. Just… stop thinking."

"They're only thoughts," he protested. "I'd never actually-"

"Liar," said Harry. "You're lying. Ugh… I'll never be able to look at a marshmallow again without picturing that. What in God's name is wrong… with…"

The girl trailed off. She was staring intently at her wrist.

"Is something the matter with your arm?"

Harry snapped back to attention and resumed their quick pace to the opposite edge of the Forbidden Forest. "Ginny. She _is_ still at Hagrid's."

"Why are you so concerned?" asked Draco, feeling slightly put out that he was no longer the subject of her attention. "You _really_ shouldn't be. Had she done to me what she did to you in the Hospital wing the day you had a pot of tea dumped on your head, I'd be seven shades of furious."

"What are you talking about? Ginny didn't do anything to me."

"She obliviated you after you snogged," answered Draco simply. "You know, it doesn't _really_ surprise me that you fancy a bit of trim. After all, you do fit the 'quidditch girl' stereotype rather nicely. You'd do well to keep that to yourself though. It's been deeply frowned upon in most wizarding circles since the Grecian wars. The muggle philosophy that it's unnatural has seeped into our society as well… what with all the crossbreeding. Unfortunately for you, your brain isn't even registering what I'm saying right now. I can't just _tell_ you that you've lost your memory, can I? Charm blocks it out. I imagine your Legilimency isn't working either. Is it?"

"Is… _what?_" asked Harry vaguely. "Are you alright?"

"Perfect," he drawled, following her into the forest's edge. "There's the trail. Stop talking to me now. Don't want anyone to see. Pretend I don't exist."

"Easy enough," replied the girl. "I do that all the time."

Even though the pouring rain was battering the treetops, the depths of the Forbidden Forest were disturbingly silent. The cries of the ravens and the hammerings of the woodpeckers had all but vanished. The air was still and bitingly cold. It was only the middle of the afternoon, but the prominent signs of daytime were virtually nonexistent within the sea of black trees.

The 'main trail' that Blaise had mentioned to him was little more than a well-trod centaur path. Every few minutes, they had to stop so Harry could untangle her hair from the hanging branches upon which it continuously snagged.

As she was unhooking herself from one such branch, the sound of a twig snapped in front of them… and Blaise emerged from behind a tree.

"You came," said the dark-skinned boy blankly. "Good. I knew you would. I suppose I _could_ just give the orders to have all the Weasleys quietly killed, but I'm not that mean-spirited."

He withdrew a small stone orb from his pocket and held it to his lips. "I appreciate the help, boys. You're off the hook. Your debts to my father are repaid."

"I thought I told you to never threaten my friends again," hissed Harry venomously as Blaise threw the stone into the darkness of the trees.

The haughty boy laughed. "Like it matters. You're going to _die_ here, Potter. You're going to die in pain… just like your father."

A soft breeze began to blow across the small path. The knuckles of Harry's hand turned white from the death-grip she had on her wand and Draco took several steps backwards, not wanting to be anywhere near her when she unleashed her considerable power.

"Learned some _dark_ spells, have you?" breathed the black-haired girl. "Do you really think you can succeed where Voldemort has failed three times? Don't you know what I am?"

"You're a halfblood slag that happens to have luck on her side," spat Blaise spitefully.

Harry shook her head and raised her wand, pointing it into the forest beside them. "No, Blaise, that's _not_ what I am. I'm Harriet Potter… and I'm a bloody monster. _Nox Argentus!_"

The air crackled. A void formed at the tip of Harry wand, sucking in all light, before exploding outward. Spines of lightning that were a shade darker than black slammed into the group of trees that Harry was aiming at.

For a split-second, nothing seemed to happen… but then, the trees began to swell unnaturally, just like balloons. The snapping of wood almost made it sound like they were screaming.

With a colossal _whoosh_ of displaced air, the giant trees imploded inward, leaving nothing but holes in the ground where their roots had once rested.

Draco's eyes bulged. He knew about the Nullification Curse, but never had he seen it put into practice… and that was most likely because not many people could do it. In one of his more drunken moments, his father had boasted that he could successfully cast it. He had said that the spell was unblockable; that it would earn you fifty years in Azkaban if used on another human being. He had said that if the target absorbed enough lightning, it would vaporize entirely. He had told Draco that the curse required an absolute understanding of darkness to perform, but he had never really explained what was meant by 'darkness'.

Draco knew now. It had meant rage. He could actually _feel_ Harry's fury in the harsh winds of her accidental magic.

"Do you still want to fight?" asked the girl angrily, her chest heaving from the effort of casting such a powerful spell. "I won't be holding back. You're trying to kill me. It's self defense."

While seemingly just as shocked by the display of dark magic as Draco was, Blaise smiled viciously.

"Fight you? Who said anything about fighting you? Don't you remember what you promised me? I believe your exact words were 'We can go into the forest and you can have your chance to kill me.' _No…_ I'm not going to _fight_ you, Potter. I'm just going to kill you… and no one is going to stop me. Not even you, _Draco_."

A bolt of red light whizzed past Draco's ear and slammed into Harry's back, sending her tumbling to the forest floor.

Before he could even begin to turn around, ropes snapped around his limbs and he too fell, the hood of the invisibility cloak slipping from his head. Something that felt like a foot dug into Draco's side and rolled him over onto his back.

"You know, it's a shame you followed her," said Blaise, staring down at him with pity. "I really didn't want to kill you, but now I don't have a choice. Such a waste; you're just so damn pretty."

Draco sneered at him. "You won't kill me. You _owe_ me."

The boy knelt down and patted his cheek. "Malfoy's really _are_ inbred, aren't they? How else could you be so stupid? Don't you see? My debt to you is paid. I _fed_ you the information about the last attack. I _let_ you save the Weasley girl so you could ingratiate yourself with this little whore. It's _your_ fault for not making a move and shagging her while you still had the chance. My good friend here had eyes on you while you were in the trophy room. He said he could _smell_ Potter's arousal from your thoughts. We're both of the opinion that had you acted like a gentleman and not tried to grab her arse, you would have been inside her cunny faster than you can say Quidditch. I'm quite glad you didn't have enough charm to pull it off though. I didn't want to wait. It's a full moon tonight and I want to be out of this infernal forest and on to Durmstrang long before it rises."

"Fuck you," hissed Draco, spitting at Blaise's face in an attempt to seem confident. "Don't think for a second that going to a different school will keep you safe! My father will find you!"

"And how is your _father_ going to find out I was involved? I'm far more intelligent than your entire family combined, Draco. I covered my tracks well."

"Are you quite finished with your self-gratifying gloating?" grunted a deep, growling voice from somewhere behind them. "I have things to do."

"Yes," drawled Blaise, hauling Draco into a sitting position against a nearby tree. "Up you get, Draco. It's time to watch me kill Potter."

"Oh… _no_, Zabini," said the harsh voice calmly. "I apologize. I forgot to mention that there's been a slight change of plans… _Avada Kedavra!_"

Draco yelped as a flare of green flew over his head and hit the dark-skinned boy squarely in the chest.

Blaise Zabini, his once roommate and somewhat friend, crumpled like a rag doll at his feet, most assuredly dead.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, Draco stared numbly at the glazed, unseeing eyes upon the surprised face that lay half-submerged in mud. It certainly wasn't grief that he felt, but it wasn't relief either. The only full-fledged emotion that his brain was able to manage was a mild sense of shock; shock that death could be so… _sudden. _A life had just been cut short in the span of less than a second; an entire future had been erased; millions of potential descendants had been snuffed out like candles in a harsh wind. To be fair, Draco had never seen anyone die before. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he had cowered in his compartment during the massacre at King's Cross. It was a logical act of self-preservation.

Heavy footsteps squelched past him towards Harry, snapping him out of his daze.

The black-haired girl's unconscious body rose into the air and was roughly tossed over what appeared to be an invisible shoulder.

"Let us go," whispered Draco as the footfalls approached him. "My father is-"

"I _know_ who your father is, Malfoy," growled the hoarse voice. "Your dear old Daddy and I used to work together… _back in the day._"

Draco's eyes widened. "Then… Then you _know_ that I can pay you handsomely for my safe return."

Given the horrid smell, Draco assumed that the owner of the voice had knelt down and was currently breathing into his face. "You think I want your family's dirty gold? Don't insult me, boy. The only payment _I_ want... is freedom. The only payment I want... is _blood_."

"B-Blood?" asked Draco nervously. "Who's blood?"

The invisible man laughed cruelly and stood up. "You're quite amusing… perhaps I'll save you for last."

A flash of red light exploded in Draco's eyes.

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A scream rent the air.

She could smell strawberries.

Harry groggily opened her eyes, groaning in pain. Her head was pounding and her scar felt like it was on fire.

"Hey there, sleepyhead. I've missed you."

Harry's head snapped upwards at the sound of the familiar, soothing voice.

Sitting directly across from her, barely visible in the dim light of the flickering fire, chained to a rather uncomfortable looking wooden chair, was Ginny. The redhead was still wearing her Gryffindor Quidditch robes, but they were slashed and torn. Her beautiful face was bruised black and blue, her nose was clearly broken, and every inch of her visible skin was covered in long, ugly, scars.

"_G-Gin_… breathed Harry hoarsely, struggling against the chains that bound her to her own chair. "W-What happened to you?"

Visibly wincing from the effort, the girl managed a weak attempt at a smile and said, "Just a mild beating and a few nicks with a knife; nothing compared to what I went through down in the Chamber. Bastard flinched every time he made a cut and then immediately healed it. He didn't seem to have a taste for inflicting pain like Tom did."

"Someone _tortured_ you?" growled Harry, her anger flaring wildly. "Who was it? I'll kill them! Was… Was it Blaise?"

"Blaise? Zabini? What's _he_ got to do with anything?"

Harry peered around at the decrepit state of the room. It was completely unfamiliar. "The last thing I remember, Draco and I were in the forest meeting Blaise... but then I got hit from behind. I don't know _what's_ going on. Tell me what happened to you. Where _are_ we? When I checked my charm, it was pointing towards Hagrid's."

"I've no idea where we are," rasped Ginny, nodding towards her bound wrist. "I was ambushed outside the locker room. When I woke up here, my bracelet was gone. I imagine Greyback must have ripped it off and tossed it somewhere near Hagrid's cabin.

Harry's mind was reeling with questions. "Who's Greyback? Is he the one who tortured you?"

The girl shuddered violently. "_No_… he's-"

There was a loud crashing noise from beneath them.

"_That's_ Greyback," whispered the redhead. "He's a _werewolf_, Harry; the most _awful_ werewolf! And… And I think he must be turning. They're just keeping him right here in the cellar!"

Ginny's amber gaze flicked towards the ceiling. "It's _him_, Harry: Voldemort… the real one. Pettigrew is up there too. The little rat told him everything about us, Harry. _Everything._"

Harry felt the blood drain out of her face. _"What?_ What do you mean? How can they be… Dumbledore said that Voldemort was hiding in Albania!"

"Apparently not," breathed Ginny. "They want to know where Tom's soulless body is being kept. They want to know about how we survived what should have killed us. I don't think Voldemort can read minds as he is… so I kept quiet. You can see what happened."

Harry ground her teeth. "Well, I'm bloody well not going to let it happen again. Fawkes can get us out of here. We'll get Dumbledore, come back, and capture all three of them."

Picturing the bird in her mind, she pleaded with all her heart.

_I desperately need your help and I swear it's not leg hair this time. It's Voldemort. He's here. Please come to me, Fawkes; help me save my Ginny._

Ginny perked up, a speck of hope flaring in her eyes. "I completely forgot you could call him! How long does it take?"

"Seconds," replied Harry with a smile. "Just you wait."

Seconds passed.

Minutes passed.

"Where is he?" asked the redhead quietly, looking somber once more.

Harry hung her head. She didn't understand. Fawkes should have come. He _always_ came… even for the mundane things like helping her avoid close encounters with Madame Dupont.

Ginny sighed heavily, her resignation and exhaustion evident. "Harry… I don't want to say it, but we might have to accept that there's not a way out of this one."

"Don't say that!" cried Harry adamantly. "I'll- I'll figure something out."

"Either way, if this _is_ the end, at least we'll go together. It's just like I prom-"

The redhead broke off as a muffled scream of agony echoed down through the ceiling.

Harry gasped. The cry was unmistakably Draco's.

"I don't understand why they're torturing _him_," whispered Ginny. "His father was a Death Eater! And… why was he even with you?"

"He was helping me," replied Harry, staring hard at the rotted wood above their head. "I made Zabini an offer the first night I was back at school. Don't ask me what it was. You'll get mad and that just seems pointless right now. We knowingly walked into a trap with Draco under my cloak so we would have the upper hand. But I think that arse got the drop on us, because he _knew_ Draco was with me. I don't know what happened after that. Blaise said he was going to kill me though. How did I get _here?_"

"Greyback carried you in with Malfoy; no sign of Blaise. You were knocked out for hours."

"Has Draco been up there the whole time?"

Ginny didn't answer… and that was all the answer Harry needed.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and flipped the hourglass. The volume of all the noise that surrounded her had increased tenfold. The dull pitter-patter of the rain on the rooftop became a montrous roar and the crashing from below intensified to the point that she could identify exactly what objects the werewolf was breaking. The mumbling voices up above had become clear as day.

"-don't know!" sobbed Draco. "We only ever talk when we're alone!"

"_Liar,"_ hissed, a shrill, blood-curdling voice; a voice that could only belong to Voldemort. "The Zabini boy informed Fenrir that you are _obsessed_ with the girl. Multiple sources have confirmed your affection for her. _Surely_ you would know the details of her death!"

"I swear! I don't know what you're talking about! How could she have _died_ and survived? She's not strong like _you_, My Lord! Please, you must believe me! I don't know a thing! My father has always loyally-"

"Your father is a money-grubbing _fool!_" screeched Voldemort viciously. "He is a fool who disobeyed my orders in an attempt to garner more profit for himself; a fool that failed to search for me and aid my rise; a fool that was content to hide amongst my enemies, claiming innocence!"

"But I'm not my father!"

There was a cold shriek of high-pitched laughter. "Like father like son! _Cut_ him, Wormtail!"

In the many times that Harry had caused Draco injury, she had never heard his scream sound so pained. Ginny had tried to describe exactly what Tom did to her in the Chamber on several occasions, but she never quite managed it. If _this_ was 'nothing' to her… then Harry shuddered to think what 'something' was.

She returned her magic to her core, unwilling to listen a moment longer.

"This is cruel," she whispered to Ginny. "Voldemort knows Draco is telling the truth. He's just torturing him out of spite. If we get out of these chains, I'm going to use every bit of magic I know, dark included, to end him."

"_We're_ going to end him," corrected the redhead softly. "You're not fighting anyone without me."

"The only reason they went after you is so they could use you against me," muttered Harry, her heart aching. "Maybe you shouldn't-"

"Don't give me that," said Ginny shortly. "You know I'm not going to listen to it."

Despite their likely impending death, Harry couldn't stop herself from grinning. "I know. Thought I'd just put the suggestion out there."

The redhead tutted her in a fashion that was very reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley. "Besides, Voldemort is after Tom's body, which I lived in for months. They probably would have come after…me…" Ginny trailed off, her eyes flicking to a spot behind Harry. "Is that… _Harry_, look at the fire!"

Harry craned her neck over the back of the chair to gaze upon the fireplace. The flame within it was sputtering and spurting wildly, throwing embers onto the wood floor.

And then… she heard it; _phoenix song_.

With a soft pop, a tiny red and gold bird burst from the fireplace, showering the two of them with ash. Trilling excitedly, it flapped across the room and landed on Harry's knee where it proceeded to hop about, nipping at its smoking, downy feathers.

"Fawkes! You came!"

The little bird puffed out its chest proudly.

"Can you not travel by your own flame when you're small?" asked Harry.

Fawkes huddled down on her leg and then lept upward with a lament of twittering song. Only smoke and sparks emerged from his wingtips.

"Well, there goes _that_ idea," Ginny mumbled sullenly.

The phoenix chirped indignantly. Latching his talons around the chains on Harry's chair, Fawkes furiously began to flap his miniature wings. To Harry's great astonishment the chair rose into the air.

"But we've nowhere to go," said the redhead. "There are no windows and the door isn't real. The only entrance is downstairs and there's a werewolf blocking the way."

Trilling in disappointment, the bird lowered Harry back to the ground.

"Can you get word to Dumbledore, Fawkes? I'll stall for time when they come for me."

Fawkes nipped her finger affectionately and flapped back to the fire. He cooed at the flames lovingly and in response, they flared to a height large enough for the bird to dive into.

"Things are looking up," said Harry, plastering an uneasy smile on her face for Ginny. "We'll be out of here in no time."

"You don't have to do that, Harry. I'm not afraid and I don't-"

A door slammed open upstairs.

"Bring me Potter!" commanded Voldemort.

Harry's eyes widened when she saw Draco floating down the stairs. He too was bruised and beaten, but unlike Ginny, his scars were short and bulging, suggesting that instead of cuts, Pettigrew had stabbed him repeatedly.

A paunchy, balding man was following in Draco's wake. Harry barely recognized him. Even though he was only in his mid-thirties, he had progressed _beyond_ going to seed. His portly flesh hung from his bones like an old man's, his hair was tufting and grey, and his face resembled that of a rat far more than it resembled the jovial face in her parents' wedding photos.

"And there he is," she spat ferociously. "I wish Sirius was here to see you now, _Wormtail._ He'd have a good laugh… and then he'd kill you."

Pettigrew didn't acknowledge her in the slightest.

As Peter levitated her up the stairs and into a room at the end of the hall, Harry's scar escalated from a dull burning to roaring inferno of pain. It didn't take her very long to identify the cause.

A pair of gleaming, red eyes was glaring menacingly at her from beneath a bundle of robes laid upon the seat of a tattered armchair in the middle of the room. The infantile, reptilian face that the eyes illuminated was scaled and slimy; Harry felt nauseous just from looking at it. She knew exactly what ritual had been performed to create the monster that sat before her. Before it had been possesed, a wizarding baby had been entirely drained of its blood. The blood was then replaced with a python's purified, enchanted venom, which preserved the body and magic after death, allowing the possessor's soul to live within it without having to share with the original owner.

Even though she had been expecting a fully-grown man, there was no doubt in her mind that this small, red-eyed creature was Voldemort. There was a massive, green snake coiled at the armchair's feet; a snake that she recognized from Riddle's pensieve book.

"_Harriet Potter_," whispered the child, a forked serpent's tongue darting past its dried, misshapen lips. "_Much_ has changed since we saw each other last."

Quickly getting over her shock, Harry leveled the bundle of robes with a death glare and bravely nodded her agreement. "_Yeah_… you're right. _You've _gotten uglier."

Ignoring the slight, Voldemort continued. "We are not so different now, you and I. We have both glimpsed the secrets that Mariel had to offer. We have both survived an encounter with death. We have both taken so many lives. I was disappointed that I was not able to witness the terror you inspired at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters firsthand. When Peter informed me that he had overheard a rather intriguing conversation in the Three Broomsticks, I had _so_ hoped you might grace me with a repeat performance in Hogsmeade. Did you like my little Christmas gift? Dementors are such wonderful creatures, are they not? They blindly obey orders in return for the souls of Azkaban. A well placed Imperius curse within the Ministry can bear the most wonderful fruits."

"That was _you?_" croaked Harry, bile rising in her throat. "You sent them _just_ because you wanted a show? Three people lost their souls!"

"A show, yes… but also proof; proof that you do indeed channel my essence when subdued into a semi-conscious state. This is a _most_ intriguing phenomenon; one that leads me to believe that using Nagini for her _original_ purpose would be a _grave_ error in judgment. Tell me, Harry. Do you know _why_ this happens to you? _I do._"

"I'm not telling you anything," she hissed bitterly. "Torture me all you like.

The red eyes narrowed. "Torture _you?_ No… we won't be torturing _you_, Harry. Wormtail has informed me of all that he bore witness to as a rat. It is rather impressive what one hears when ensconced within the pocket of a Weasley. Given that you _willingly_ submitted yourself to the ministrations of Lucius Malfoy, Peter's poor excuse for inflicting pain would be like child's play. It would be imprudent to use upon you. Instead, we shall make you _watch_ as we send your _beloved_ Ginevra to the grave! Wormtail… fetch the Weasley girl!"

"_No!"_ screamed Harry, her heart turning to ice as Peter disappeared from view. "Don't you lay a finger on her! Don't you dare!"

"Touching," said Voldemort mockingly. "So _very_ touching. Know that this suffering is of your own creation, Harry. Love is such a flawed premise, not to mention a troublesome weakness. Why share in another's heart when you could just as easily dominate it? Why give, when it is just as easy to take? The latter is far more rewarding."

"That's because you never learned how to do the former, Tom," rasped Ginny loudly as Pettigrew brought her up the stairs. "I know what they did to you at that orphanage. I know you better than you know yourself. All you wanted was your share, but Dennis and Amy would never let you have-"

"_SILENCE!"_ shrieked Voldemort, his crimson eyes suddenly bulging from the sockets. "YOU KNOW NOTHING! WORMTAIL, STRING THEM UP AND _STRIP_ THE REDHEAD!"

The chains around their chairs fell away, but before Harry could even begin to protect Ginny, invisible ropes snapped around her wrists and ankles, jerking her arms above her head, hauling her into the air to dangle a foot above the floor.

"Why are you listening to him?" she cried angrily to Peter as he vanished Ginny's clothing, revealing the girl's scarred, freckled body for the whole world to see. "He's _weak!_ He can barely do magic! Just _kill_ him! I'll make _sure_ no one harms you! You won't have to go to Azkaban! We can… We can have a special cell or something! You could go back to being a rat!"

The man's watery grey eyes briefly flicked towards Harry, but quickly returned to the task of readying Ginny for torture.

Voldemort cackled. "Wormtail is fascinating, is he not? A complex man indeed. He is a coward that wishes to flee from all danger. And yet, he _also _desires to live his life out in the open, a luxury afforded to only the _bravest_ of traitors. Serving his Master loyally is the only way to get what he wants. Now_…_ _watch_, Harry; watch your _family_ die in agony. You may begin, Wormtail."

Peter gripped Ginny's mouth and forced a small, pink vial of what looked to be blood-replenishing potion down her throat.

"P-Please," Harry mumbled weakly, "don't hurt her! I'll… I'll-"

"Tell me where the body of my younger self is hidden and I will spare her, Potter."

Harry and Ginny screamed in unison as Pettigrew's wicked dagger slashed deep into the redhead's stomach, spilling copious amounts of blood over her hips.

"Tell me!" commanded Voldemort. "I _know_ you are aware of its location. _Again!_"

Peter healed the wound, raised the dagger for a second blow, and brought the tip careening down through Ginny's left breast. The spurt of crimson sprayed over Harry's face.

"_Stop!"_ she screamed desperately, oblivious to the wind billowing violently through the room. "For God's sake, stop!"

"Wormtail… let us make this quick. _Slit her throat._"

"NO! _PLEASE!_ I'LL TELL YOU!"

"Don't..." gasped the redhead miserably as the knife withdrew, "don't t-tell him, Harry. It's… It's not worth it."

Harry gazed into the girl's pained, amber eyes and for a split-second, she saw the world without Ginny Weasley. For a split-second, she weighed that dark future in the palm of her hand. Within the span of a split-second, she passed judgment and cast that future aside. A world without her Ginny was not a world worth fighting for.

Pettigrew hesitatingly placed the knife on the redhead's neck and looked to his Master for the signal.

Harry glared at the serpentine infant and yelled, "Make him _stop!_ I'll tell you! You kill her, you get _nothing!_"

Voldemort laughed gleefully. "Stay your blade, Peter."

The balding man breathed a sigh of relief and stepped back.

"Swear to me," breathed Harry. "Swear to me on your magic that once you have the body, you'll set Ginny _and_ Draco free."

"You dare _command_ me, Potter?" hissed Voldemort softly. "That is most… _unwise._"

"It's not a command. It's a condition. You have a choice. You either _want_ the body, or you don't."

The red eyes bore into her relentlessly. "_Very well_… I swear upon my magic that they shall go free, Potter. Now… tell me."

Harry swallowed the lump in her throat. "It's in Dumbledore's office. It never comes out and neither of you will be able to get in. The Headmaster's office is protected against unwelcome guests."

"I am well aware. In fact, the entire castle has recently been warded against those who bear the Dark Mark. Neither I, nor Wormtail may pass into the grounds. And thus… _you_ shall retrieve the body for me. Peter, the observation stone if you will."

Pettigrew reached into his pocket and withdrew a stone that was identical to the one Blaise had carried. The man waved his wand and a small chain grew from the rock. He clasped it around her neck.

"To keep an eye on you," cooed Voldemort silkily. "You will have one hour to return here with the body. Should you not succeed, the girl will die. Should you try to obtain aid from another, the girl will die. Should you try to tamper with the stone, the girl will die. Wormtail… cut her down. Take her to the edge of the wards."

Without a word, Peter released Harry from her binds, grabbed her arm, and turned on the spot.

The unpleasant sensation of being sucked down a tube was becoming increasingly familiar to Harry and thus, she was able to stave off the resulting wave of nausea when they reappeared seconds later in the middle of small, upward sloping tunnel. Behind them, she could hear the faint crashing of the werewolf.

"It's a twenty minute walk to the exit," said Pettigrew in a quivering voice. "I suggest you run."

"I should say the same for you," whispered Harry nastily. "The dog and the wolf are hungry for rat. I think you should run and hide; hide for the rest of your life."

"I've nowhere to go," wheezed the balding man, shoving her down the tunnel. "This is the only choice."

Harry never would have imagined that the man who betrayed her parents to Voldemort would be so… _pathetic_.

"How do you live with yourself?" she asked, turning back. "How do you live with knowing that you put two of your best friends to their deaths and condemned another to Azkaban?"

"By remembering that _I'm_ still alive," mumbled Peter. "That's all that matters in the end. Get going. Return with the body and I shall appear."

He disapparated with a loud pop.

After running for what felt like miles, the tunnel began to shrink and Harry had to hunch down to go further. Eventually, she saw light at the tunnel's end. She climbed the abrupt incline and to her surprise, she emerged between the roots of the Whomping Willow.

And then… it clicked. She had just been inside the Shrieking Shack. The most powerful Dark Lord the world had ever seen was hiding right under Professor Dumbledore's nose.

Wasting little time, Harry tapped the knot on the tree and darted across the grounds. She slipped through the front doors of the castle as quietly as possible. The Entrance Hall was dark; curfew had obviously come and gone.

Harry rushed through the Grand Staircase tower and darted into the long hallway that circled past the Headmaster's office, her sneakers releasing a painfully loud squelch with every step she took. Like it had been doing for the past year, the stone gargoyle came alive and hopped aside as she approached, revealing the spiraling stairwell.

Professor Dumbledore's office was eerily silent. For the first time that Harry could remember, the many silver instruments scattered throughout the room weren't whirling or whirring with frenzied activity. They were instead completely still.

"You're not supposed to be here, Harry Potter."

Harry jumped and spun around, reaching for the wand she didn't have.

Tom was leaning against the wall beside the door, staring at her with cold, expressionless eyes.

A violent shiver ran up and down Harry's spine. Of all the incarnations of Voldemort, this one scared her the most; he was a like a particularly vicious wolf disguised in sheep's clothing.

"How do you know who I am?" she asked slowly. "How can you recognize me? You're supposed to be… _empty_."

"The Headmaster has spent months building me an artificial soul from the remnant imprints my own left behind," replied Tom, his voice as monotone and blank as ever. "I am very nearly complete."

"He made you a _soul?_" gasped Harry, horrified. _"Why?"_

The handsome boy shrugged. "For what purpose I do not know, but I am most grateful. Is Ginny with you, Harry Potter? I wish to see my little Ginny. I want to play with her. She was ever so playful."

Harry clenched her fists. It was extraordinarily difficult to restrain herself from attacking him, but she realized that she might be able to convince him to follow her willingly if she just remained calm.

"Yes. I'm going to take you to see Ginny. Would you like that?"

"I cannot leave," said Tom expressly. "Professor Dumbledore has forbidden me to leave the office upon penalty of death."

"But she wants to see you, Tom," urged Harry, feeling dirty as the words rolled from her tongue. "She wants to play with you too. And do you know who _else_ is with Ginny?"

The boy stepped closer, clearly intrigued even though he showed no sign of it. "Who?"

"Your _future_ self. Wouldn't you like to meet the _real_ Lord Voldemort? He's so wonderfully powerful. I can take you to him."

Tom licked his lips. "We will leave while the Headmaster is gone? We would leave now?"

"Right now," agreed Harry conspiratorially. "Isn't it worth the risk?"

The boy turned to stare at the door. "I do not wish to die."

"You won't," she assured him instantly. "The Headmaster will never know."

Tom's blank expression broke and the beginnings of a sickening, twisted grin spread across his face.

"Take me there, Harry Potter."

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Ron was convinced that meeting Hermione in the secluded upper stacks of the Library had been the right choice. Passersby might have found the sight of the girl mumbling a bewildered jumble of nonsense as she paced back and forth in front of him to be a tad strange.

"_Mione_, it's going to be fine. We're doing it right."

"How can you _possibly_ know that?" she shouted feverishly, whirling around, grabbing his shirt and balling it tightly within her fists. "Don't you understand? We could all be _killed!_"

Feeling his ears burn, Ron slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her into the most comforting, reassuring embrace he could manage. "Nah. _You _won't let that happen. Brilliant, you are. You've got everything under control. We likely would have disintegrated the whole bloody castle by now if you didn't."

Hermione slumped against his chest. "Promise me that you'll never let me do anything like this ever again."

"Oh I promise alright. I don't think my brain would be able to handle another day like this one."

**/FLASHBACK/**

With every tick of Gryffindor common room's grandfather clock, Ron became increasingly concerned. Neither Ginny nor Harry had been seen since the end of the match and curfew had long since passed. Even though they were likely off having some sort of harmless celebratory adventure around the castle, Ron was still worried. He knew he was just being overprotective, but he simply couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he should be with them.

When Neville vacated the spot beside him on the couch, heading for bed, a certain blonde someone immediately filled the seat.

"You look troubled, Ron," crooned Lavender, leaning into his arm. "Is everything alright?"

"M'fine," he replied hastily, trying not to stare at the girl's shirt, which had been unbuttoned just far enough to see the ridge of her bra. "J-Just a bit worried about Harry and my sister. They've been gone for ages."

Lavender slid her thigh onto the couch, resting her knee casually against his leg. "They can take care of themselves you know. They're both rather good at magic. If you always go chasing after them, you'll never have any time to yourself."

"Well… Mum always says we can't have everything."

"Is there anything I can do to help then?" breathed the girl, blushing profusely as she made a rather obvious show of raking her fingernails up and down the inside of her impressive cleavage. "Is there anything you want from me?"

Ron scratched his head nervously. He didn't really know how to say he wasn't interested in a way that wouldn't hurt her feelings. It wasn't that Lavender didn't entice him, because she did; the girl was extremely attractive. It was just… he had promised Hermione. And on top of that, the blonde's obsession with Divination made him cringe.

"Erm… I don't… Do you think you could go up to Ginny's room and get something for me?" he asked quickly, unable to follow through with rejecting her while under the gaze of so many other students. "There should be a bit of old, folded parchment on the dresser. I _really_ need it."

The girl sat back dejectedly. "Oh… alright. If that's all you… Hold on then. I'll go look."

When she returned, Lavender held on to one edge of the Marauder's map as he tried to take it from her. "Do I get a reward, Ron?"

"R-Reward?" he stuttered anxiously. "What kind of reward do you want?"

"This kind."

Like a cat, Lavender pounced on him, her soft lips slamming into his own while she clambered onto his lap. Ron couldn't help but notice that she smelled wonderful… like fresh honeysuckle. She tasted even better than she smelled. Her creamy, vanilla flavored lip balm made his head spin. Catcalls and whistles broke out from all around the common room as the girl deepened the kiss, opening her mouth just wide enough so that her tongue could caress his bottom lip in an effort to gain entry.

The noise brought Ron out of his daze and he lightly rolled the busty blonde onto the sofa, his ears burning fiercely as he covertly attempted to flatten his growing erection.

"I won't say I didn't enjoy that… but… I… I have to go!"

"Go?" asked Lavender breathlessly, her gaze heavy-lidded and lustful. "Go where?"

Ron shook his head. "Sorry, Lavender, but I have to find Harry and Ginny. I'm just… _yeah._ I'm sorry."

He quickly made for the portrait hole and stepped through, leaving the dismayed girl behind. Relieved that she hadn't followed him, he lit his wand and unfolded the map as the Fat Lady swung shut.

"I'm glad you didn't lie to me at least," whispered a soft voice to his left.

Ron spun, thinking he had been caught out of bounds before he even had a chance to look for Harry and his sister.

But… it wasn't a teacher. It wasn't even a Prefect.

It was Hermione.

"Mione! What are you doing out here? Where are you going?"

The girl smiled at him. "I suspect you'll find out soon enough. It's almost midnight. But _really_, Ron, thank you for warning me about the kiss. If you hadn't, I wouldn't have had time to sort myself out."

"You… You saw!" gasped Ron, wondering why she wasn't cursing him. "I'm sorry! She… She kissed me and I-"

"I know," said Hermione, stepping into the light of his wand. "You already… never mind. I'll explain later."

Ron was shocked to see that her chocolaty brown eyes were shimmering with happiness.

"What's going on with you?" he asked tentatively. "This morning you were beating me with a newspaper."

"I got over it," mumbled Hermione, pulling him into a warm hug. "I'll always get over it."

He bewilderdly returned the embrace, taking a deep breath of her toffee-apple scented hair. "Is it alright that I'm confused out of my mind?"

"Aren't you always?" teased the brown-haired girl, patting him lightly on the chest. "I have to go. I'll see you in a bit."

Without a word of explanation, Hermione turned and hurried off down the corridor.

"Wait," cried Ron, furiously fumbling with the map. "It's after hours! You'll get caught! Hermione!"

The girl raised a hand in parting and ducked behind the tapestry which hid the secret passage between the fourth and seventh floors.

"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," he muttered, tapping the parchment with his wand. Lines of ink sprung forth in every direction and he soon found Hermione's dot moving swiftly towards the Owlry. "You're… You're sending a letter in the middle of the night? Are you bonkers, woman?"

Ron chased after her, his eyes roaming frequently over the map to make sure he wouldn't run in to any trouble. However, right as he reached the Owlry doors, he spotted two more dots exiting the Headmaster's office whose tiny names presented a much more pressing problem than Hermione getting caught out of bounds.

_Harriet Potter_ and _Tom Riddle_ were quickly making their way towards the castle's entrance.

"_Harry?_ What the _bloody_ hell are you doing?"

Ron took off in the opposite direction. He pounded down the Grand Staircase, dodging into a girl's bathroom when he saw Dupont's dot appear on the stairs below. After the caretaker was a safe enough distance away, Ron quietly crept out and sprinted down the remaining flights to the Entrance Hall.

To his dismay, a rather unwelcome dot was slowly approaching the front doors from the opposite direction. He darted into the broom cupboard in which Filch had used to store his grimy mops and waited for the dot to pass by.

But it _didn't_ pass by.

The dot stopped directly in front of his hiding spot.

There was a sharp knock and when Ron didn't answer, the door swung open.

"I find it rather amusing that you're actually here, Weaselbee," drawled Malfoy quietly. "I imagine you feel right at home."

"Piss off," growled Ron, stalking past him. "How in Merlin's name did you know I was in there?"

"Are you stupid?" asked the blonde snidely. "You told me. Wait… _no_… you're not the same one, are you? Where's the bushy-haired Mudblood?"

Ron whirled around, drawing his wand. "Don't you _dare_ call her a… _Bloody hell!_ What happened to _you?_"

Now that they we're standing in moonlight, Ron saw that several large, blackened bruises covered every inch of the boy's face and neck. Malfoy's robes had been torn to bits and red, lumpy patches of scar tissue could be seen through the many holes and cuts.

"As much as I enjoy _chatting_ with you," sneered Draco, "Granger leaves at midnight. Take me to her if you ever want to see Harry and your sister again."

Ron's heart skipped a beat. "What have you done to them, you _poncey_ little git?"

Out of nowhere, Draco's fist collided with Ron's cheek. It wasn't a very hard hit, but it still made him stumble.

"That's payback" muttered the boy angrily, waving his hand about in the air. "Fuck… that _hurt_. Why do you do it so much?"

As Ron pulled back his arm for a return punch, Draco held up his hands in surrender. "Listen to me, you _stupid_ ape! We're running out of time! I'm on _your_ side! I won't let Harry die! Please, take me to Granger! I'm sure she won't be able to stop herself from explaining everything to you in an exorbitant amount of detail."

If it hadn't been for the 'please', Ron would have disregarded everything the blonde had said and pummeled him senseless. Malfoys didn't plead with Weasleys and Weasleys didn't plead with Malfoys. It simply wasn't done.

"Are you being serious?" he asked slowly.

"Doesn't it look like I'm being serious?" spat Draco, gesturing at his beaten face and scarred body. "Do you think I willingly thrust myself onto the business end of a dagger for shites and giggles? _Now…_ are you going to help me or not?"

"Hermione's in the Owlry," stuttered Ron. "The business end of- _Oi!_ Wait for me!"

Albeit narrowly avoiding Peeves outside the Charm's classrooms, they arrived at the small, slightly smelly tower with little incident. Hermione's dot still remained within.

The bushy-haired girl breathed an enormous sigh of relief as they entered. "Thank goodness! I thought the two of you weren't going to make it! Although, now that I think about it, that's a rather irrational fear, seeing as you obviously _did_ make it, or none of us would be here in the first place."

Ron's brain turned to mush. "Will someone please tell me what I'm obviously missing?"

"I will as soon as we've gone, Ron," replied Hermione, withdrawing from her collar a tiny, silver object dangling on a long chain. "Come here, both of you."

"Is that really it?" drawled Malfoy. "I've never seen one before. For some reason, I assumed it would be… bigger."

"Physical size is no indication of magical power," lectured Hermione, pulling the chain around all three of their necks. "Just look at House-Elves."

"I try not to," said the blonde. "How far back are we going, Granger?"

"Twelve hours," she mumbled, holding the object at the end of the chain up to her eyes. "I need to send a letter."

Ron's jaw dropped. It was a Time-Turner; a _real_ Time-Turner.

Hermione carefully began to spin the little hourglass. "So that means… _twelve turns to the left_."

The dark tower dissolved around them. Ron experienced the very odd sensation that he was flying backwards at great speed. Colors and moving shapes blurred erratically before his eyes. His head began to pound furiously.

And then… he felt solid ground beneath his feet.

They were still standing in the Owlry… but night had turned to day. Hundreds of owls were asleep on their perches, back from their nightly hunts.

"How on _earth_ did you get a Time-Turner?" he asked Hermione, who had ducked out from beneath the chain.

"I was granted its use after the Ministry recognized my hard work, Ronald." The bushy-haired girl withdrew an envelope from her robes and tied it to Circe's leg. "Take this to Harry, girl."

Circe hooted affirmatively and flew off.

Ron frowned. "So… So _that's _how you've been getting around to all your classes then? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Both a Ministry official and Professor McGonagall _forbade_ me. I wanted to tell you so badly, Ron. I almost _did_ the night Harry came back. I'm so sor-"

"Don't we need to hide?" drawled Malfoy abruptly. "Don't want anyone seeing us in two places, do we?

Hermione nodded rapidly. "Yes… Yes, let's find an abandoned classroom and I'll explain everything… with Draco's help of course. You told me that he's the one that knows what's happening to Harry and Ginny."

"_I_ told you?" asked Ron incredulously, following her out of the tower. "How could _I_ have told you? You and this plonker seem to know more about this than I do."

"We're twelve hours in the _past_, Ron," said Hermione calmly, leading them into a classroom a ways down the corridor. "We're going to explain it to you now and _you're_ going to explain it in far less detail to our _past_ selves. This all revolves around you. I can't be sure, but I think the second you left Lavender behind and stepped out of the portrait hole, this whole cycle of self-perpetuating time travel came to be."

"What?" asked Ron plainly, completely lost. "Self-per-whating?"

"Self-perpetuating, Ronald… meaning our future-selves are making our past-selves follow in their footsteps. I'll do my best to explain." Hermione pushed him into a chair and went to the backboard. With a bit of chalk she drew a long straight arrow.

"This arrow represents relative time and space. The flow of time is fixed. It moves in _only_ one direction, towards the future. When we travel backwards in time, whatever we do has _already_ happened in our pasts. This law of the universe cannot be broken except in the rare case when a time-traveler is _aware_ that they will be interacting with their own past sometime in the future. They can then _choose_ to either follow the flow of time or they can _avoid_ it. The latter creates a paradox. This is bad. This is _very_ bad. When presented with self-perpetuating time, time-travelers must be _particularly_ cautious to avoid creating paradoxes, because a paradox will overwhelm time itself and cause a localized collapse of reality around each past, future, and present version of the Time-Turner. The Bermuda triangle was created in _exactly_ this fashion. The Atlanteans were toying with their own timelines and they destroyed themselves. Time travel has been highly restricted by the International Confederation of Wizards ever since and time turners are only granted to those who fully understand the risks. Are you with me so far?"

"Think so," he mumbled. "Makes an odd sort of sense, I suppose."

"Good. Alright. Now let me explain _our_ situation. Your future-self informed my past-self that we have apparently been dangerously close to creating paradoxes all day. For example, this morning, had my past-self looked at the letter I sent to Harry just now, we would likely all be dead. Had I seen the writing from _my_ future-self, I could have knowingly placed a letter or ink mark in the wrong spot, thus creating a paradox and _destroying _the flow of time. Thankfully, all of our future and past-selves think exactly the same as we do… and they are presented with exactly the same situations. It seems to me like our future-selves have been successful in avoiding paradoxes… but only because they chose to follow the flow of time. We have to do the same in order to maintain the timeline."

"And how are we supposed to _do_ that, Granger?" drawled Draco. "Weasley is the center of all this, but he hasn't got enough brains to fill a teacup!"

"But he obviously does," said Hermione sweetly. "His future-self managed to free _you_, didn't he?"

Ron smirked. "Mione, are you saying that I absolutely have to help Malfoy or the castle will explode? That's a bloody hard choice to make."

"Piss off, Weaselbee."

Hermione pulled two desks around Ron's. Amazingly, Draco immediately sat when she commanded him to do so. "Since Ron's future-self encountered both of our past-selves. We need to tell him what happened to each of us, without using any specific language or imagery. Can you do that, Malfoy?"

"A flobberworm could do that."

"Well, then it should only be _mildly_ difficult for you. I'll start. After Harry received the letter from myself this morning, I went to my room. I was really starting to panic. I hadn't thought through any of what I just told you. My logic had completely gone out the window. But then, I got a letter from you, Ron; the letter which you're about to write and send to me. It told me in no specific terms to meet you at a place and time of your choosing… and no, I'm not saying where. And so, I met you. You explained to me that you and Malfoy would be accompanying me on my time travel trip. You explained to me that Harry and Ginny were going to get in quite a bit of trouble tonight and that this had to be done, or they would likely die. You also warned me about the kiss I would see. You told me that I had already explained all of this to you. Those are the essential points, but feel free to elaborate. After that, I went back to my room and had a good long think. Remember that your words will inspire all of mine which will, in turn, inspire all of yours… and so on and so forth. Malfoy?"

The blonde ran his hand through his coiffed hair. "After the match, Harry and I had a talk. I let her know that Blaise was waiting for her in the forest due to reasons that aren't your concern. He blackmailed her and laid a trap for us… but… but he was betrayed by Fenrir Greyback. Blaise is dead."

"He's _dead?_" gasped Hermione.

Malfoy nodded. "Greyback killed him and took us straight to... to the Dark Lord.

"You-Know-Who is here _too?_" yelped Ron, horrified. "Then... they have Harry!"

"Obviously."

Ron leapt up. "Well, we're bloody well going to stop them! Come on, Mione."

"We can't, Ron," said Hermione softly. "We can't change the past. Time flows in _one_ direction. Since we're in a self-perpetuating loop, we can't do anything to knowingly change what happened in our past timeline without creating a paradox. Our future-selves _knew_ that and that's why _they_ didn't try to change it. You can call it fate if you like, but this is what time-travelers have to deal with. They can either follow their fates or face destruction."

Draco continued. "The Dark Lord and his servant are hiding within the Shrieking Shack. Your sister was there. She too had been abducted. After I was tortured, both Harry and Ginny were brought before Voldemort. I lost consciousness after that, but when I finally woke up, it was to the sound of _your _annoying voice, Weasley. You and Granger were wearing the invisibility cloak. You had subdued Greyback and were going to rescue Harry and Ginny. You told me that Granger had a Time-Turner and that if I wanted to save Harry's life, I had to take the invisibility cloak that was lying downstairs and find your past-self hiding in the Entrance Hall's broom cupboard. You told me that you would then take me to Granger and we would all travel back in time. Oh… and you punched me like a heathen. I suppose me punching you as payback in the Entrance Hall was the reason, was it? Or was it me telling you about it now? Funny how that works."

"Alright then," said Ron slowly, trying very hard to absorb the vast heap of confusing information. It was slightly comforting knowing that his future-self had successfully managed to remember it all. "So… what happens now?"

"Now you send me that letter," replied Hermione confidently. "I suppose Malfoy and I will go and hide by the Whomping Willow until it's time for the rescue. It's important that we not be seen by vast numbers of people. Oh… and you'll need the invisibility cloak; you had it when we met. Why don't you give us the Marauder's map?"

After exchanging the items, Draco sneered at him. "Do try not to mess this up, Weaselbee. Harry's life is on the line."

The boy stalked out of the room.

"I'm going to savor every second of decking that git," Ron muttered to Hermione.

"Don't do it _too_ hard. He needs to be able to walk." The girl brushed her fingertips over his knuckles. "Ron… about when we meet…"

"Yeah?"

Hermione's cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. "I didn't… I didn't mean what I said. In fact, I meant the opposite."

"What was it that you said?"

Gently shaking her head, she leaned forward and planted a lingering kiss on his cheek.

"You'll see."

**/END/**

"I can't believe this is happening," muttered the girl. "Its an absolute nightmare, Ronald."

"Having a Time-Turner isn't all bad," said Ron comfortingly. "Thanks to you, we have a chance to save Harry and Ginny."

"I suppose you're right," said Hermione, sighing tiredly into his chest. "Well… if that's all, I need to go think this through. I'll see you... er... the other you... at midnight."

Ron had been dreading this moment. So far, Hermione had taken everything in stride. As the girl pulled away from him, he reached out a hand and gently latched onto her wrist, swallowing the hard lump that had risen in his throat.

"Mione, there's… there's one last thing I need to tell you."

One of Hermione's eyebrows arched upwards. "I gather from your expression that it's not something I'm going to like?"

Ron took a deep, steadying breath and nodded. "You're going to see something in the Gryffindor common room. You're going to see me and… and…"

"And what?" supplied Hermione, lightly squeezing his hand.

Ron looked pointedly away from the large pair of chocolaty brown eyes that were staring up at him. He couldn't say it directly to her face.

"And… you're going to see Lavender and I snogging."

Hermione's breath audibly hitched and within it, he could hear the unmistakable sound of her surprise and hurt.

"Mione, I-"

"Don't," interrupted the bushy-haired girl, wrenching her arm out of his grip. "Just... don't."

"I wasn't expecting it," muttered Ron, hanging his head. "I swear."

Her expression stony, Hermione clenched her fists and pushed past him. When he tried to stop her, he suddenly found himself going cross-eyed as a wandtip was shoved into his face.

"I don't want to hear it!" she growled breathlessly. "You made me a _promise,_ Ronald!"

"I know I did! And I haven't broken it! She just surprised-"

"I said I don't want to hear it!" yelled Hermione, swelling with fury. "Don't talk to me!"

"But it wasn't my fault!" protested Ron desperately. "She literally pounced on me!"

"_Contegra!_"

Ron's arms and legs snapped together. He keeled over, mercifully falling onto his side.

She glared down at his bound form. "That's _not_ why I'm angry! Every time _we_ get close, you push me away! Why didn't you push _her_ away? Why don't you push Harry away? Why is it only me? I hate it! I hate _you!_"

"I'm not-"

"Don't make excuses! I don't care anymore!"

And with that, she spun on her heel and stalked away down the aisle, her wand sparking dangerously.

"Mione! Wait!"

Struggling uselessly against his invisible binds, Ron sat up and crawled after her. However, by the time he reached the edge of the bookcase, she had disappeared.

Ron sighed and rolled onto his back, picturing the affection he had seen in the eyes of Hermione's present-self.

'_I didn't… I didn't mean what I said. In fact, I meant the opposite.'_

Although he hated seeing her hurt, at least he now knew what _his_ version of the girl had been talking about when they had parted two hours previous.

When the magic in his binds finally wore away, Ron picked himself up with a pained groan and made his way to the nearest stained-glass window. The orange sun was setting over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, casting long, ominous shadows across the grounds.

_I love you too._

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Draco hunched his aching shoulders against the icy downpour. The hours spent sitting in silent vigil with no one to keep him company aside from Granger were driving him mad. The pain of his bruises and shoddily-healed scars made the situation even worse.

"I hate rain," he muttered grumpily to no one in particular. "I _hate_ it."

Granger glared at him. "If you say that one more time, Malfoy, I'll jinx you. Harry needs us… so stop complaining."

He sneered at her. "_I'll_ stop so long as _you_ agree to cease prattling on about Weasley. Believe me when I say that I don't give a damn."

"I'm just worried he won't be here in time," she protested defensively. "I think I might have put a bit too much power into that binding hex."

"You obviously didn't. I wouldn't have been set free in-."

Out of nowhere, the Gryffindor girl lunged at him, pulling him behind a thick tree trunk. She threw a hand over his mouth to muffle his angry protest.

Draco stopped squirming when he heard the distinct sound of cracking twigs.

Someone was approaching the jumble of trees that they were using as a hiding spot, each footstep squelching noisily through the mud.

He held his breath as the bushes to their left rustled with movement.

"_Mione! Malfoy! Where in the bloody hell are you?"_

The branches parted, seemingly of their own accord.

Draco wrenched Granger's offending hand away from his lips and stepped into the open. "What took you, Weaselbee? Did the other version of the Mudblood give you a little blast from the past?"

The redhead yanked off Harry's invisibility cloak and sent Draco a look that would have made hell itself freeze over. "You watch your fucking mouth!"

"Just ignore him, Ron," said Granger calmly. "There's no use trying to be civil with this imbecilic cretin."

"Too right," grumbled Weasley. "What Harry sees in this piece of shite, I'll never know."

Draco snorted. As much as he wanted Harry's constant attention, being _'civil'_ with the unrefined pauper and the obnoxious know-it-all was an insurmountable obstacle.

Shoving Draco aside, Weasley grabbed the brown-haired girl's hand, pulled her out of earshot, and began to whisper under his breath.

The fierce blush that sprang to Granger's cheeks led Draco to believe that whatever the pair was talking about wasn't something he wanted to overhear. The image of romantic relations between the two made him somewhat sick to his stomach.

"You can shag on your own time," he called out to them. "When you freed me, it was close to eleven, which means we've roughly an hour left to come up with a way to subdue a bloodthirtsy, transformed werewolf."

To his immense satisfaction, Weasley bristled, whirled around, and pulled out his wand, his face turning a violent shade of red. However, when the enraged boy's gaze fell upon Draco, the anger vanished from his eyes and his jaw went slack.

"Perhaps _I_ may be of service in regards to your furry little problem," wheezed a tired voice, accompanied by a soothing trill of twittering birdsong.

Draco spun on the spot.

Slumped against the large tree from behind which Draco had just emerged was none other than Albus Dumbledore. The old man looked half-dead and exhausted beyond belief. His back was hunched and his withered skin was sagging from his bones. It seemed to Draco that the Headmaster's silvery beard had lost several shades of color, almost appearing bleach white in the darkness.

"P-Professor!" squeaked Granger. "How did you… I thought you were…"

"Indeed I was," said Dumbledore wearily, sinking down onto one of the the large roots protruding from the ground. "And yet thanks to my faithful friend here, I was informed that all was not well at Hogwarts."

A small, red and gold bird poked its head out of Dumbledore's collar. It squawked angrily at the heavy raindrops that were slipping through the forest canopy and made a hasty retreat into the depths of the wizened man's robes.

Dumbledore peered knowingly them. "I take it that the three of you are aware of the situation that has befallen Harry? Would you be so kind as to enlighten me?"

Before Draco could say a word, Granger eagerly launched a painfully long-winded explanation of the night's events, only pausing whenever her face turned purple from lack of breath.

"You remain as cunning as ever, Tom," mumbled the Headmaster sadly as the annoying girl finally finished speaking. "Yet again, you force me to act rashly."

Dumbledore's piercing gaze flicked towards Draco.

"Mr. Malfoy… would I be correct in assuming that you would do all that is in your power to see Harry to safety?"

Draco was a tad shocked that the old coot was addressing him directly, but after a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "Yes, sir, I would."

The old man smiled. "Then I must ask you not to panic."

"Panic? Why would I-"

Draco yelped and backpedaled as Dumbledore limply fell sideways into the mud.

"Malfoy!" shouted Weasley. "What did you _do?_"

His angry retort of _'I didn't do anything!'_ caught in his throat as invisible hands gripped his wrists, wrenching his arms upward.

'_Forgive me,'_ said a tiny voice in the back of his mind._ 'As we do not share an intimate mental connection, I cannot possess you by mental means. I have no doubt that this will be most painful.'_

Draco's eyes widened.

The hands tightened and a blinding wave of agony ripped through him.

Something was clawing through the skin of his back, tearing it to bloody shreds. It was as if every jab of the dagger that had left him with so many scars was stabbing him simultaneously.

Draco felt himself falling. He was being pushed downwards; smothered by a layer of pain.

And then… everything stopped.

He was standing in the middle of a bright, sunlit room that was barren of all furnishings. Each of its walls was made from solid, white marble… and yet somehow, he could see right through them. He could still see the Forbidden Forest; could still see Granger and Weasley looking dumbstruck.

'_Do not be afraid, Draco,'_ boomed Dumbledore's strangely echoing voice. _'Even though I have forcibly taken over your body, I have every intent of returning control to you when our task is complete.'_

Draco jumped in shock when he felt his physical-self move without his input. Even more odd was hearing words flowing past his lips; words that weren't his own.

"Miss Granger… while I understand your curiosity, I would greatly appreciate it if you refrained from poking at my body. I'm quite ticklish you know."

"W-What the _bloody_ hell just happened?" gasped Weasley. "Are you… Are you _Malfoy_, Professor?"

"Only temporarily," he heard himself wheeze. "I'm afraid that no amount of planning would be able to prepare the three of you to fight a transformed werewolf. That task shall fall to me. In my current weakened state, I cannot use magic, thus I have forced my soul into Mr. Malfoy's body."

"Y-You _possessed_ him?" squeaked Granger, horrified. "But, sir… that's… that's…"

"It is a gruesome act, yes… but it is necessary."

Draco felt himself make an odd, trilling sound.

The little phoenix emerged from Dumbledore's robes and flapped to Draco's shoulder.

"Come, Fawkes. It is time to rescue our friends."

The bird chirped affirmatively, puffing out its tiny chest.

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A powerful stream of ice-cold water splashed over Ginny's bare skin. The chill cut through her pain-induced haze, delivering her back into the cruel hands of awareness.

Upon first glimpse of the bottomless black eyes that haunted her memories, Ginny thought she was having a nightmare. However, when clammy, spidery fingers slid down the side of her hip, horrible realization washed over her.

This was real. Tom stood mere inches away from her, his twisted smirk prominent even in the dim light.

"Hello, Ginny. I've missed you.."

Ginny cringed as the boy leaned forward and trailed his tongue down her neck. Even though his touch no longer cut into her skin, her mind made the ghost of the pain feel real.

"Stop him!" cried Harry's voice from somewhere behind her. "You _swore_ you would let her go!"

Voldemort's shrill giggle made her skin crawl.

"Yes… _I did._ I am a man of my word. I swore that I would set your friends free, but it was _you_ who failed to specify when, where, and how I fulfill said oath. Where shall I do it, Harry? In a pit full of snakes? Over a cliff's edge? _At the bottom of the ocean?_"

"YOU BASTARD!"

"Now, Now," croaked Voldemort with an air of sadistic laughter, "do hold your tongue, or I shall make you watch Peter cut out young Ginevra's. Wormtail! Begin the binding ritual!"

Ginny shuddered with relief as Tom's fondling hands were yanked away from her body. The force caused the invisible chains that were suspending her in midair to slowly spin about.

The first thing she noticed was Harry's bitterly resigned expression. Her normally sparkling, emerald eyes were dull, red, and overflowing with angry, apologetic tears.

The second thing she noticed was that the chair in which Harry was restrained sat in the corner of a large, glowing triangle that Pettigrew was painting on the floor with his wand. Voldemort's bundle of robes was laid at another corner and Tom stood in the center, his cold eyes still glued upon Ginny.

"Do it!" commanded Voldemort excitedly when Peter had finished drawing three more glowing lines that separated the triangle into four equal sections. "Do it now!"

"Don't," begged Harry, staring hard at Pettigrew. "I know this ritual. That body still hasn't reached maturity. His soul will corrupt the core and he'll be ten times stronger than he was at his prime! You can still stop! _Please,_ Peter, don't do it!"

Pettigrew ignored her. He stepped into the open corner of the triangle, placed the blade of his dagger to his palm, and sliced deep. The man groaned as his blood spilled onto the floor.

"_B-Blood of the servant, willingly given; l-loosen the bonds of the body."_

The line dividing Peter from Tom disappeared.

Ginny shut her eyes as Pettigrew levitated the dagger toward Harry, but it didn't help in the slightest. The mental image created by Harry's scream, along with the nasty _shlick_ of the blade sinking into the girl's flesh, was unavoidable.

"_Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken; loosen the bonds of the mind."_

Ginny forced herself to look. Blood was pouring down Harry's calf and the line separating her corner was fading fast.

Pettigrew guided the dagger to Tom. With two flicks of his wand, he slashed the blade down the length of the boy's wrists.

"_Blood of the vessel, d-drained half-dry; loosen the bonds of the soul."_

Tom fell to his knees as the final syllable was uttered, his eyes rolling upwards into the back of his head.

Voldemort squirmed wildly as the last line began to fade. "The time is nigh! Lord Voldemort will rise!"

The door slammed open.

"Not today, mate!" shouted a familiar voice._ "Expulso!"_

A violent shockwave slammed into Pettigrew, knocking him out of the triangle. The glowing lines disappeared with a loud, sizzling noise that sounded a bit like bacon frying in its own grease.

Voldemort's screech of rage was deafening. A wand as white as bone slid from a gap in the pile of robes.

"AVAD-"

"_Incendio!" _cried another disembodied voice._ "Alohomora! Finite Incantatem!"_

The bundle of cloth burst into flames and Ginny fell to the floor in a heap.

A wand was thrust into her hand.

"Get up, Gin! Fight! Oi! Get back here, you little rat!"

Ginny's mind was reeling… and it wasn't from excessive blood loss. Everything seemed to be moving at speeds faster than her eyes could follow. Hermione had appeared out of thin air. Harry was out of her chair, wand in hand, flinging jets of blue light at a small blur that was skittering across the room, dodging beneath the furniture. Voldemort's screams of agony were dying away.

Her temples throbbed in furious protest when she attempted to stand. Time slowed. Her surroundings spun out of control. Darkness clouded her vision, blurring her senses together.

Warm arms wrapped her in a gentle embrace.

"It's alright, Gin. You can let go. We're safe."

Ginny could feel a calloused hand cupping her cheek as she slipped into oblivion.

_Harry…_

…

…

…

…

Something was tickling her neck; something hot and rhythmic.

Ginny tentatively opened her eyes, blinking away the bright sunlight that was streaming down onto her face. An immaculately white curtain had replaced the Shrieking Shack's shabby décor. Given the unsettling smell of extreme cleanliness lingering in her nostrils, she came to the conclusion that she was in the Hospital Wing.

Ginny tried to sit up, but paused upon realizing that she wasn't the bed's only occupant. A lithe body was pressed against her side and a familiar head of long, messy, black silk was buried in the crook of her shoulder.

Everything that happened in the Shrieking Shack came crashing back to her. Somehow, against all odds, Harry had survived yet another encounter with the Dark Lord.

Even though she could have done without the torture and near-death experience, Ginny was somewhat grateful that they had been kidnapped. It had clearly broken Harry's resolve to avoid allowing their bodies to touch at night. After two months of going without, Ginny was desperately missing the feeling of holding the girl in her arms. She missed the texture of Harry's skin and the tender caresses they shared. She missed seeing the rosy blush on her friend's face every morning. She missed waking up to a soft body that fit perfectly against her own.

Raising a finger, Ginny brushed Harry's wild curtain of hair aside and tucked it behind an ear so that she might better gaze upon the flushed face hidden within the folds of her shirt.

Harry stirred at the light touch and a flurry of panted nothings flowed into the pillow.

As the sound of the little, breathy moans bounced around in Ginny's head, the familiar ache in her chest tightened. The same startling sensation that had overwhelmed her in the locker rooms returned in full force. It was primal and possessive. It was like hunger, thirst, and desperation all rolled into one. Never in her entire life had she felt a yearning more intense.

_Mine..._

Ginny pulled the sleeping girl as close as she could, squeezing her tight.

_You're mine. You always will be._

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**And that's PoA**

**GoF is coming soon**

A part of me likes this chapter and a part of me hates it. I don't know why.

The time travel was a bitch to write and keep in line with JKR's 'time is fixed' motif. Where is Steven Moffat when you need him?


	26. Ch 23: By the Light of the Looking Glass

And we're back. I apologize for the ridiculous wait. Life got in the way, so thanks for sticking with me. An extra special thanks to my readers that are publicizing the story on other websites. I didn't expect that and I was pleasantly surprised.

On an unrelated note, from this chapter onward, all unsigned reviews will receive some form of reply on the newly created **A.B.E. Unsigned Reviews Answer Forum**. Link in profile.

Several new PoVs in this chapter. They're quite important too, despite coming from minor characters.

Enjoy.

**Chapter 23: By the Light of the Looking Glass**

_Twinkle twinkle, little bat._

_How I wonder what you're at?_

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"Neville, where are you, dear? We have guests!"

Neville, who was deeply concentrating upon pruning his latest breed of cactuses, jumped at the sound of his Great Aunt's voice. The slippage of his normally steady hand caused him to accidentally snip a flowering bud from the plant upon which he was working. The little blue-eyed cactus looked up at him tearfully and even though it couldn't speak, Neville could tell that it felt utterly betrayed.

"_Bugger_… Sorry about that. But don't worry, it'll grow back. I'm in the greenhouse, Auntie Enid!"

To Neville's surprise, the glass door across the room swung open to reveal not only the hunched figure of his Gran's elder sister with whom he was spending the summer, but also a familiar pair of beautiful, caramel-skinned twins that, to his recollection, hadn't set foot in this house for the better part of eight years.

Neville dropped his shears and stood, clumsily knocking over the bench in his haste to do so.

"Padma? P-Parvati? What are you two doing here? I-I mean, n-not that you can't be here… I was just… I just meant that-"

"Our parents are leaving for India to visit relatives," interrupted Parvati helpfully. "Sadly, we can't go with them. We've far too much summer homework to get done. Enid and Algie have offered to let us stay here until they get back."

"Oh… Oh right. That's… That's excellent."

Padma, whose face bore the opposite expression from her sister's excited one, mumbled incoherently under her breath. This in turn earned her a sharp elbow in the ribs from Parvati that Neville politely pretended not to notice.

"You don't mind, do you, Neville?" asked the Gryffindor girl pleasantly. "We won't get in your way?"

"Erm… no, of course not," said Neville. "I-I'm a guest too."

"Wonderful," chimed his Great Aunt. "Come along then, girls. Let's get you settled in. Neville, dear, we'll be having tea in half an hour. Do clean yourself up beforehand."

Parvati flashed him a brilliantly white smile as she was herded out of the room and Neville felt his cheeks burn furiously.

Long after they had gone, he finally managed to unlock his trembling knees and sink back down onto the bench. It was ludicrous to think, even for a second, that one of the prettiest girls at Hogwarts, one who was widely held to be even prettier than Harry, would _ever_ be interested in _him_.

It took Neville several moments of gazing at nothing in particular to notice that every single one of his cactuses, even the one he had unintentionally snipped, was staring at him coyly.

"She's just… _being friendly,_" he mumbled to them. "Nothing more."

The little plants began to waggle the tiny green bumps that he supposed served as their eyebrows.

"Oh shut it," said Neville, running his hands through his hair exasperatedly. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I actually _miss_ living with Gran."

After showering and changing into some of his nicer clothes that weren't stained by mud, grass, or a variety of plant fluids, it was nearly time for tea, which, in fear of facing his Great Aunt's wrath, Neville never dared to miss. However, just as he was about to make his way downstairs, he heard a door on the third floor slam shut.

The sound of two nearly-identical voices drifted down through the open window.

"This is the worst, Vati! I _don't_ want to stay here!"

"Deal with it. Mum said-"

"Don't you give me that bollocks! We could have finished our work just as easily overseas! I _know_ you begged her to let you stay behind!"

Neville frowned guiltily. Given the volume of the heated conversation, he really couldn't avoid listening in. Uncle Algie, who held an intense passion for gossiping, often took down the bedroom privacy charms whenever relatives came to visit. Padma and Parvati were clearly unaware that their argument would be heard loud and clear by every pair of ears in the house.

"Oh Merlin, _so what if I did?_ Why aren't you _thanking_ me, Padma? _You_ were the one who said that you didn't want to stay with Uncle Bashir for a whole summer."

"Yes, but I'd much rather be living _there_ than living _here!_"

"You'll offend Nani Lakshmi if you refuse to eat her cooking again. You know your stomach can't handle chili. Why on earth would you want to go through that?"

"Well, _maybe_ it's because I don't like Neville! In fact, I hate him! My ideal destination is anywhere he isn't!"

"You… You _hate_ him? _Why?_ What has he ever done to offend you?"

"Oh let's see, for starters, he's a brainless idiot!"

"You don't even _know_ him anymore, Padma! He _saved_ Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger from Devil's Snare! They would have _died_ in our first year if it wasn't for Neville! He's… He's a hero!"

Neville swelled with pride as Parvati came to his defense, highlighting the one moment in his life in which he had felt himself worthy to be the son of Auror Captains Frank and Alice Longbottom.

The wind in his sails immediately died, however, when he heard the Ravenclaw say harshly, "Pure luck! He's denser than a stack of bricks! And… And he's… _fat!_"

"_What?_ Have you gone and turned into one of Cho's shallow minions without telling me? Besides, that was baby weight! He's almost lost it all! Neville is… _sweet_ and… and _kind_… and I like him. I've _always_ liked him. You know I have."

"Fine! _Fine!_ Go be with him then! It's _always_ about Parvati! Parvati this! Parvati that! Parvati _always_ gets what she wants… even if it already belongs to Padma!"

The girl's final syllable rang dully in Neville's ears.

"Are… Are you _seriously_… Is that what this… You're actually _angry_ with Neville about… _about the birthday party?_ That was _EIGHT_ years ago!"

"He was _MY_ friend! But… But all he could talk about was you after… after you _stole_ him!"

"And how _exactly_ did I steal him?"

"HOW DO YOU THINK?"

"_EXCUSE_ ME? _YOU_ TOLD ME TO DO THAT! I PRETENDED TO BE YOU BECAUSE _YOU_ WERE TOO SHY! IT'S NOT MY FAULT THAT HE REALIZED IT WAS _ME!_"

Neville had heard quite enough. He was positive that should his blush get any more intense, his cheeks would be in danger of exploding. He needed to get away; needed to find a place to lay low; somewhere his relatives wouldn't come looking.

Luckily, he knew just the spot.

Grabbing his wand and slipping it into his back pocket, Neville dashed out of the room, took the stairs three at a time, and burst through the front door, deliberately ignoring his Great Aunt's squawks of protest from the parlor.

To his absolute horror, as he pounded down the sidewalk towards the large manor at the end of road, he could still hear the shouting match taking place between the twins. Several of the neighbors were sticking their heads out of windows to listen to the commotion. Fortunately, as soon as he stepped onto the manor's large stone veranda, the sound immediately died.

Neatening himself up as best he could, he pulled the small rope fixed against the frame of the mansion's massive door.

A series of haunting bells chimed dolefully within the depths of the house… yet no one answered.

After a full minute's wait, Neville rang again.

Still there was no answer.

Assuming no one was home, he turned to leave, feeling slightly dejected that he would have to return so soon to his overly attentive Great-Aunt, his inconveniently eccentric Great-Uncle, and his two childhood friends whose ridiculously good-looks made his head spin.

But then… there was a soft _click_.

Neville spun and perked up as the door slowly cracked open.

Through the gap, an enormous, watery-brown eye was gazing up at him inquisitively.

"Yes?" squeaked a small voice. "H-How may Winky be helping you, sir?"

"Hello, Winky," said Neville kindly. "Do you remember me? Two years ago, my Gran and I came to visit Mr. Crouch. I was wondering if he might-"

"_Winky!"_ someone hissed from inside the house. "What have I told you about answering the door? You are to be watching him at all times! What if he were to-"

The door was abruptly slammed in Neville's face. He heard a great amount of muffled shouting, followed by a squeal and several small bangs, before the door opened once more, this time by the imposing figure of Bartemius Crouch, who looked terribly official wearing his impeccable business suit, despite it being a Saturday.

"G-Good morning, Mr. Crouch. You might not remember me, but I'm Neville Longbottom."

The man's hollow gaze quickly swept over him. "Longbottom… Longbottom… _yes_… yes we've met. You're Augusta's grandson?"

Neville nodded rapidly. "Y-Yes, sir. Two years ago, when we came to visit, I told you I was interested in Herbology and you asked me if I'd like to look after your wife's garden. I… I'm staying at my relative's house… just down the road there… and I was hoping you'd let me take you up on the offer."

Mr. Crouch's eyes darted up and down the street, before refocusing on Neville. "Ah… Yes… of course, boy; anything for a relative of Augusta. I ask, however, that you not enter the house, as I'm quite busy and don't have the time to entertain guests. Everything you'll need is in the shed. Good day."

"Oh… right. Good day to you as well, sir… and thank y-"

The door swung shut before he could finish.

Albeit being somewhat wild and overgrown, the garden of the late Mrs. Crouch was still one of the most magnificent and intimidating sights that Neville had ever seen. Stretched out before him were acres and acres of exotic trees and magical plants, lined by a towering hedge of white roses that sparkled brilliantly in the bright sunlight.

He knew at first glance that it would take weeks to tame, which was a perfect excuse to _not_ spend time at his temporary place of residence.

_Alright. Let's get to it._

Seven hours of tedious weeding later, Neville noticed that the sun had started to sink below the horizon. Not wanting to traipse about a magical garden in the dark, he returned his tools to the shed and made his way back to the house.

After a hearty apology to Enid for skipping both tea _AND_ supper, Neville climbed the steps to his room and collapsed on the bed, only just now beginning to feel the aches and pains of his exhausting work.

"Knock Knock," whispered a melodic voice to his left. "Can I come in?"

Neville sat up so quickly, his forward momentum almost threw him from the mattress.

Parvati was standing in the doorway, wearing a long, mustard-yellow nightgown that thankfully left quite a bit to the imagination.

"S-Sure," stuttered Neville bashfully. "I wouldn't get too close though. A bubotuber sprayed pus all over my shirt."

"I can tell," said Parvati, waving her hand in front of her nose. "I don't mind though… not really."

Neville nodded appreciatively, but fell silent. He was unsure of what he was supposed to say to a girl who he now knew secretly liked him.

Parvati sighed and sauntered forward to sit next to him on the bed. "Neville… you _really_ don't have to be shy around me. I know that we… I know that we don't talk much at school, but we've known each for a _very_ long time."

"Er… yeah," said Neville guardedly. "I… I s'pose you're right. S-Sorry."

Parvati smiled softly at him, brushing her long brown hair back behind her ear. "Although… I do understand _why_ you're nervous… having heard what you did."

Neville blanched and leapt up. "I… I didn't mean to listen, Parvati! I swear! The charms, they-"

Parvati grabbed his hand and he lost his train of thought as she gently pulled him back down to the mattress.

"It's alright. Enid told me that the whole neighborhood probably heard us. I admit, I didn't want you to find out that way, but it was our own fault for assuming this house was just like our own."

Neville opened his mouth to apologize regardless, but a slim, tanned finger pressed itself against his lips, silencing him.

Brown eyes sparkling, Parvati scooted closer and cupped his cheek. "And now that you know… I'm really happy that you do. I don't think that I ever would have been able to tell you face-to-face. I'm not as brave as I'd like to be. Not like you."

Neville shivered as her fingernails raked soothingly back and forth across his skin. "I'm not brave at all. I'm scared of… _well_… everything."

"But that's not what brave is," she muttered gently, pressing her chest into his side. "Brave is facing your fear, even when you're afraid. Brave is leaping blindly into a pit to save your friends. Brave is… Brave is leaning in to kiss the boy you like, even if you still don't know how he feels about you…"

When Parvati's full, luscious lips brushed against his jaw bone, Neville tried to make his body pull away, but the heady aroma of her cinnamon-scented hair made him feel as sluggish and unresponsive as a flobberworm.

"P-Parvati, I-"

The Indian girl moaned and once again covered his mouth with her hand. "Please don't say anything just yet. Don't do anything. Just… _think about it._"

Without another word, she got up and quickly left the room, only pausing to smile at him as she shut the door behind her.

As Neville changed for bed that night, his mind began to wander to places it had never dared venture before. He couldn't help but imagine that it was Parvati's fingers fumbling with his buttons, rather than his own. He couldn't help but imagine that it was Parvati's hands sliding against his waistline as he removed his belt. He couldn't help but imagine that it was Parvati who was slipping his wand out of his jeans…

Neville was wrenched violently from his fantasy, a flood of fear and anxiety seeping steadily into his heart as his fingers dug through his back pocket.

His wand…

It was… _gone_.

After tearing the room apart in a fruitless search for his most precious possession, Neville shrugged on his clothes, grabbed a lantern, and dashed out of the house. He retraced his every step, all the way back to Mr. Crouch's front door.

The wand was nowhere to be seen.

Frantic now, Neville pulled on the rope connected to the doorframe, hoping against hope that someone in the house had perhaps stumbled upon the small shaft of polished ash.

The bell tolled once…

Twice…

Thrice…

And on that third ominous chime, he heard a bloodcurdling cry that cut through the night's silence like a gunshot.

"_MORRRRSEMORRRRRDRE!"_

The dreaded apparition he had only ever heard mentioned in whispers burst into the sky above his head, bathing the entire street in an eerie green light.

Neville barely had time to gasp before he was blown backwards with the force of a cannon. He landed hard and tumbled for what felt like a good thirty yards. He was only vaguely aware of the sound of his bones crunching as he skidded to a halt on the pavement.

Through heavy-lidded eyes and mountains of pain, Neville watched Crouch Manor burn; watched the towering pillar of fire blaze high above the trees, its flame dancing in the gap between the snake-tongued skull and the waning gibbous moon.

Something hot and wet dripped down the side of his face, dribbling onto his lips. The bitter taste of copper was unmistakable.

When the world around him finally… _blissfully_… slipped away, the only thought running through his mind was that should he live to see another day, Gran was surely going to kill him twice-over for losing his father's wand.

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Dudley gazed blankly at the long row of identical houses stretched out in front of him.

The town of Little Whinging never changed. All his life, it had personified the perfect paradigm of suburbia: it was quiet, it was peaceful, and its properties were painfully well kept. In other words… it was _perfectly_ dull. Change, in fact, was a rather unwelcome guest for those who enjoyed its dullness.

Thus, when a convertible carrying a gaggle of rambunctious girls screamed down the length of Privet Drive, the four rebellious boys lounging on the curb at Dudley's side responded naturally. Their flurry of lewd, excited cat-calls would have made even the most hardened of sailors cringe.

Dudley couldn't bring himself to mimic them. He didn't want to be left out, but he rather doubted his cat-calls would sound convincing when the only girl he could think about was…

To prevent his friends from calling him a poof, Dudley wiped the sweat from his brow, smeared a fake grin across his face, and busied himself with lighting his illegally-obtained cigarette. After a few unsuccessful strikes on his childproof lighter, the paper tip burst into flame. He took several long drags, letting the heat seep into his chest before exhaling. With every breath, her smiling visage slowly faded from his mind's eye.

Dudley hadn't been the first of the boys from Smeltings to take up smoking. That particular achievement belonged to Piers, who was currently making his way through his third pack of the week. The skinny blonde had become somewhat unhinged over the past year. Apparently, after having nightmares about being attacked by giant hounds that could transform into feral, skeletal madmen, the only thing that could calm him down was the gentle sear of smoke in his lungs.

Being Piers' only _real_ friend, Dudley had felt obliged to accompany the boy on his many smoke breaks and eventually, he had gotten hooked as well. Even though he was quite sure his parents wouldn't approve, he didn't really see it as a bad habit. The biggest match of his boxing season was a mere three days away and the little rolls of burning tobacco did wonders for his pre-fight nerves. And of course… seeing how the first two weeks home from school had been _anything_ but calm, he definitely needed something to help keep his head on straight.

**/FLASHBACK/**

_THUMP_

Dudley opened a bleary eyelid.

The clock on his bedside table read four in the morning.

_THUMP _

_THUMP _

Ever since that _'Bumblybore'_ bloke had gone and magicked their house, Dudley hadn't been able to hear a single peep from Harry's room. Why she was suddenly making such a tumultuous racket eluded him.

_THUMP _

_THUMP _

_THUMP_

With a tired groan, he pounded on the bedroom wall. "Shut it, you mad bint! I've got training tomorrow! Don't make me come in there and _put_ you to sleep!"

"That's the spirit, son!" echoed his father from across the house. "We'll show those _people_ what's what! Do you hear that, Potter? We've been coerced into tolerating your _unnaturalness_, but under no circumstances will we have you keeping us up at night!"

Even though they all knew that there was no way to force an entry into his cousin's den of freakishness, the noise mercifully stopped.

Dudley was on the verge of entering a very pleasant dream involving a pair of busty, French maids, when the thumping started once more, albeit at a much lower volume. Growling bitterly, he pulled a pillow over his head in an attempt to block out the noise.

After the old man had forced them to experience Harry's life from _her_ point of view, Dudley had gone out of his way to avoid her. Now she could do whatever she liked in her little fortress without fear of punishment. It was highly unfair.

_THUMP _

_We give you plenty of space to be a freak and this is how you repay us? Dad was right. Give you an inch and you take a mile!_

_THUMP_

_THUMP_

Dudley realized with an angry jolt that perhaps Harry was thinking isolation wasn't full reparation for her 'mistreatment.'

_THUMP_

She was probably thinking that by keeping him awake and sabotaging his chances in the tournament, she could get some _real_ payback!

_THUMP_

_Well, we'll just see about that!_

Preparing himself to dole out some of Piers' trademarked, verbal abuse, Dudley clambered out of bed and stalked to the door. However, as soon as his hand wrapped around the handle, a rather curious thought occurred to him. The thumps sounded like they were directly on the other side of his wall, and yet between his and Harry's bedrooms…

Grabbing his Smelting stick off the dresser, Dudley quietly crept from room and onto the landing. He reached out, fingers fumbling for the light switch.

He was not at all pleased to find that his theory was correct. The thumping wasn't emanating from Harry's room at all.

It was coming from inside the hallway closet.

Raising his knobby cane high above his head, his hands trembling yet ready to swing, Dudley grasped the closet's handle... and tugged.

Light spilled inward… and his jaw fell slack.

Inside the small, cluttered space, her ear pressed firmly against the unpainted drywall, was a girl; a rather attractive girl; a rather attractive, rather _naked_ girl.

Her shockingly wide, misty-blue eyes remained fixed upon the wall as she held up a hand to stop him from approaching. "Don't come any closer please. They won't appear if they sense a man in the vicinity."

Dudley stood rooted to the spot, a large portion of his blood rushing southward while his gaze swept over her light blonde hair and willowy body. Even though he had seen his fair share of naked women in Gordon's enormous collection of dirty magazines, encountering a nude girl in the flesh still managed to send him reeling.

Eventually, he was able to compose himself enough to lamely stutter the one and only thought that was coursing through his mind.

"Y-You're not w-wearing any clothes."

"Oh… yes," agreed the girl, seemingly unconcerned by her state of undress. "One must exude a feminine presence when hunting for Fogglewumps. It's a necessity, you see. If I were searching for Mogglewumps, I would be at quite the disadvantage, for they require a male presence."

Dudley openly gaped at the blonde while she thumped her fist against the wall in various places, muttering to herself.

"Daddy always had to find the Mogglewumps. Oh dear… I do miss him. We used to hunt for Ogglewumps together quite often. It's not really the same without him… hmmm."

Dudley didn't process a word of what she had just said. His attention was focused firmly on her chest.

"Unfortunately, it seems like _this_ particular closet is _devoid_ of an Ogglewump population… which I find exceedingly odd. They always appear on the seventh of every month in non-magical dwellings. Perhaps they don't like it here?"

Dudley's eyes snapped upwards as her dreamy gaze swiveled towards him. "Erm… Erm… _yeah_… they probably don't."

"Well… while I _would_ like to continue my search, if there _are_ any Fogglewumps, you've likely scared them off. Also, I'm quite tired. Travelling by way of the Night Bus is somewhat exhausting. Did you know that the Night Bus is suspected of transporting Stubby Boardman? I was rather shocked when I heard the news."

"S-Stubby… _what?_ Who _are_ you?"

"I'm Luna," said the girl, completely unabashed. "Given your age and rotund shape, I can only assume you must be Harry's cousin Dudley. It's very nice to meet you. You don't seem quite as horrible as she described."

"Oh… erm… thanks?"

"Well, have a pleasant sleep, Dudley. Do watch out for Nargles."

The naked blonde brushed past him, opened Harry's door without experiencing the painful shock that zapped one's hand whenever they tried to enter, and casually strode inside.

**/END/**

By the time he had fallen asleep that night, Dudley had convinced himself that the girl had been a dream. Thus, when she walked into the kitchen behind Harry the following morning, he had nearly choked to death on his bacon.

Harry had explained that Luna, a witch like herself, would be staying in her room for as long as necessary; explained that this was a command straight from the Headmaster of their freaky school and could not be contested.

Amidst the rabid explosion of arguing that broke out between his parents and cousin, the blonde had smiled at him.

No girl had _ever_ smiled at him before.

And so, the most nerve-wracking two weeks of Dudley's life began. Even though Luna was one of the freaks, she was constantly on his mind. Her eyes, her voice, her smile, her body, her pale skin; he couldn't get her out of his head and it was driving him mad.

"I'm bored," he grunted to Piers, stamping out his fag. "I don't want to sit here all summer. Let's bloody _do_ something."

"I saw a couple of skirts out on the playground," grunted Gordon. "Thought I might have a go at chatting them up. Want to be my wingman, Dud?"

"Why even try?" drawled Piers, puffing on a freshly lit smoke. "The only action a plug-ugly dizzy-queen like _you_ will ever get is from Pam and her five sisters."

Gordon, who _was_ rather unfortunate looking, flipped Piers a two-finger salute as he stood and walked off. "Fuck you too, Polkiss. I'm doing it. Later, mates."

"I'm going with him," squeaked Dennis, hurrying after the taller boy. "Don't want to stay behind with the poofs."

When the two rounded the corner at the end of the street, Malcolm smirked and asked, "Five pounds they each get a knee in the knob?"

Snickering, Piers shook his head. "No use betting against a certainty. Come on, let's go after them. I want to watch this travesty."

Taking care not to alert the pair ahead of them to the fact that they were being followed, they slowly made their way down the street. Upon arrival at the path which led to the distant playground, Piers pressed himself up against the wall of a nearby house and peeked around the corner.

"Ha! They're really doing it! There's a blonde girl… but I don't see any others. _Well_, she's alright, but not really my cup of tea."

_A blonde… two girls…_

Dudley's heart fell out of his chest. He muscled Piers out of the way and took the spot on the corner, hoping to God it wasn't her.

It was.

She was regarding the two boys with mild curiosity as they attempted to flirt with her.

_So… So… does that mean the other girl is…_

As Dudley thought it, a head of black hair appeared at the top of the slide.

_Oh shite._

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Trying his best to look inconspicuous whilst carrying the contents of his recently emptied desk, Percy kept his head down as he trudged out of the offices of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

Despite the Ministry's rather desperate attempt to keep the situation under wraps this past month, the news that Peter Pettigrew had been discovered and captured alive alongside the murderous Fenrir Greyback had managed to find its way into the headlines of this morning's Daily Prophet. Needless to say, Minister Fudge had thrown the building into an uproar.

Percy's father was waiting for him at the lifts. Tucked beneath his arm was a box full of family pictures, quills, and several misused, muggle gadgets.

"All set?"

Percy nodded dejectedly and pushed past him into the crowded, golden elevator.

Had he not just been fired after a mere two weeks on the job, he imagined the ride up to the atrium would have been somewhat amusing. The rushed effort to erase any paper trails of potential corruption within the varied departments was considerably less than covert. On every floor, the grate had slid open, bombarding the occupants of the lift with torrents of interdepartmental memos. Through the downpour of fluttering paper, he could see his former coworkers rushing about, shouting frantically at one another whilst vanishing large quantities of important looking documents.

The elevator shuddered to a halt and a soothing, female voice echoed, "Level Eight: The Atrium of Arrivals and Departures, incorporating the offices of Magical Maintenance, Visitor Registration, and the Floo Network."

While shoving his way out of the lift, Percy accidentally knocked one of Fudge's personal aides to the ground, but seeing as he had lost a great deal of respect for the age-old institution that was the Ministry of Magic, he didn't bother excusing himself.

His father patted him on the shoulder as they approached the designated disapparation area. "Don't worry, son. This isn't the end of your Ministry career. No matter what the verdict of the upcoming trials may be, I'm quite sure that Cornelius' name won't be on next year's election ticket. Kingsley gave me his word that he would do everything in his power to get us our jobs back once the smoke has cleared."

Percy laughed dryly and stepped onto the glowing platform. "And what will we be doing for money until then, Father? Will we live off Bill's and Charlie's savings? Will we live off Ron's meager reward money for catching Greyback?"

His father's expression turned stony. "We'll manage, Percy. We always manage."

"I'm afraid you're deluding yourself. I'm going to Penelope's. I'll be in touch."

"_Percy_… wait a mome-"

His father's protest was still ringing in his ears as he apparated into the small flat that his longtime girlfriend had purchased just days after their graduation.

Percy desperately needed a drink. With a tired grunt of "Penny?" he collapsed into the sofa and reached for the bottle of Tokay. "Are you home?"

As he hadn't been expecting any sort of reply, the familiar, feminine scream that answered made his blood run cold. A thousand different scenarios, each more awful than the next, rushed through his mind.

_Burglars..._

_Murderers..._

_Death Eaters..._

Leaping to his feet, Percy broke into a run and burst into the kitchen with his wand drawn.

Even though he had prepared himself for the worst, what he saw in that drably-lit room still managed to break his already weakened heart.

Penelope Clearwater was bent over the table, white knickers around her ankles as a half-naked Marcus Flint pounded into her from behind. She was grunting and moaning passionately; far more passionately then he had ever heard her whilst they had been together. The look of ecstasy on her face made him want to vomit.

Neither Penny nor Marcus had noticed his rather loud arrival, which suggested to Percy that this horrifying exercise in copulation was consensual. However, not wanting to risk it, he raised his wand and fired a stunner right into the side of Flint's head.

Penny shrieked and whirled around as her companion was blown halfway across the room.

The surprise and guilt that flashed across her face when their eyes met confirmed Percy's suspicions. This had been her choice.

Not having the slightest desire to start a relationship-ending confrontation today, he disapparated on the spot and retreated to the only place he could really find peace.

The sound of the tinkling bell that sat above the entrance to Flourish and Blotts set his mind at ease. The shopkeeper, Bert, with whom he got on rather well, sent Percy a small wave of greeting before turning his attention back to the bossy-looking witch that was waving a book in his face.

Unwilling to let himself brood over the vivid mental images of Penelope's infidelity, Percy quickly made his way to the reclusive reading area at the back of the shop, pulling random books from the shelves as he went. He plopped down in a small armchair and opened the book on the top of his pile; a thick, red tome entitled Terror's of the Middle Age.

A mind-numbingly dense account of the slew of short-lived dark wizards and witches that gained power after Slytherin's fall was a perfect escape from reality. It was just what he needed.

Percy lazily flipped through jumbles of pages until a rather odd image caught his eye. A wizard, Emeric the Evil according to a small caption, was standing at the base of a stone altar. It was covered in runes that had obviously been painted in blood. Percy remembered from History of Magic that Emeric, a suspected owner of the Elder Wand, was really only famous for his dastardly experiments with time travel in southern England. He had never heard of the man becoming involved with blood magic rituals.

Intrigued, he turned to the next page.

Percy gagged and quickly shut the book, tossing it aside.

"Bit squeamish, are you?" asked a distinctly female voice from behind him. "Me too. I nearly vomited when I saw a jar full of newt eyes in the shop next door."

Percy turned in his chair to kindly point out to whoever had so rudely been reading over his shoulder that he wasn't squeamish at all. No one in their right mind would enjoy seeing illustrations of children having their hearts cut out.

He wasn't at all prepared, however, to find an enormous pair of brown eyes mere inches away from his face.

"Hi there."

Percy jumped away from the sweet-smelling girl that was invading his personal space. "Erm… hello…"

Pushing her large, red glasses up the bridge of her softly-pointed nose, the girl stood up, allowing him to see her in full. She was tall, relatively thin, had long, mousy-brown hair, and looked to be roughly his age, despite having a childish grin plastered across her face. By any normal standard, she could have been considered plain were it not for her large eyes, the likes of which he had never seen before. Her stunning gaze radiated a wealth of intelligence and self-confidence.

The girl held out her hand, which he tentatively shook.

"I do apologize for interrupting you. It's just… I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a pickle. You see, I was separated from my younger brothers at the robe shop and now I can't find them anywhere. I'm not quite accustomed to the magical world… and you look like a nice, normal bloke… so I… _well_, I thought I might ask you for help."

Percy arched an eyebrow as a faint blush rose to the girl's cheeks. "Well… I've nothing to do at the moment. I suppose I can be of service. A muggle, are you?"

"A what?"

Percy stood and led her towards the front of the store. "Ah… forgive me. It does sound a bit crude to the ear. 'Muggle' is our term for non-magical human."

"Oh… yes… that does fit the bill then. Both of my brothers are going to be attending Hogwarts this year. Quite the shock when Colin got his letter… and now Dennis too. To be honest, I feel a bit left out. This magic business is utterly fascinating. Without the aid of modern technology, wizards manage to solve the same everyday problems that normal folk encounter. It's amazing."

"Well, the same can be said for us, you know. We find it extraordinary that muggles get by so well without magic. My father is particularly astounded by your wide variety of electronic gadgets. He actually _collects_ batteries."

"Oh my… he sounds amusing. I think I'd like to meet him."

"I'd advise you to be careful what you wish for. Father can be quite… _avid._"

The sound of the girl's laugh blended seamlessly with the little bell that bid them farewell as they left the bookshop.

"I'm Percy, by the way. Percival Weasley."

"Audrey Creevey," she replied, smiling warmly at him. "Very pleased to meet you, Percy."

"Likewise. Creevey you say? I was the Head Boy at Hogwarts this previous year and I believe I'm familiar with your brother. When unsupervised, unfortunate injuries befell the boy everywhere he went."

"Yes… that's _definitely_ Colin."

Percy nodded. "Well then… it would be most prudent to find him before anything unseemly happens. Shall we?"

Once again blatantly ignoring the basic concepts of personal space, Audrey reached out, grasped his hand, and entwined their fingers. "Let's go."

As the confident young woman hauled him down the cobbled street, Percy found himself feeling surprisingly at ease; which was quite remarkable considering he had lost both his job and his girlfriend in the span of a few hours.

Seeing as it was early summer and only a handful of Hogwarts students would have received their letters, Diagon Alley was almost completely bereft of shoppers. Although it shouldn't have been too difficult to find Colin and the youngest Creevey, who, from Audrey's description, looked exactly like his older brother, it was almost as if the two boys had disappeared. None of the shopkeepers had seen either of them without Audrey in their company.

After searching the entire alley with no luck, his brown-haired companion collapsed on a nearby bench with a decidedly miserable groan. "_All_ I had to do was take the boys shopping… and now I've gone and _lost_ them! Mum's _always_ going on about how useless I am. I try so hard to prove her wrong, but everything I do tends to blow up in my face. School, jobs, boys… nothing ever works out."

Percy shuffled his feet awkwardly. He wasn't very talented when it came to consoling people… and consoling a muggle girl he barely knew was something he simply wasn't capable of.

The girl sighed and patted the bench. "Sorry… I'm rambling. Sit with me, will you?"

Somewhat nervous, he obliged, trying and failing to act casual when she scooted closer to him.

"I really appreciate your help, Percy. You're very sweet to waste so much time on me."

The words rolled from his tongue before he could even process them.

"It wasn't a waste of time."

Audrey blushed and looked away. "There's no need to make me feel better. I pulled you away from your reading, after all."

"Oh… erm… it wasn't anything important. I tend to find solace in dense books whenever I'm trying to get away from my problems."

The girl smiled softly and placed a sympathetic hand on his knee. "It's comforting to know that even the attractive, straight-laced blokes haven't got everything together."

It was _his_ turn to blush and look away.

"So what do you _do_, Percy?" asked Audrey, quickly breaking the awkward silence. "If I were to guess, I'd peg you for a law student. You've got a look about you that simply screams, 'I'm a solicitor!' Do wizards have lawyers?"

"Erm… _no_, not really. We have courts and a law department… but they're nothing at all like the muggle systems. I do work for the Government though. Well, I _did_ work for them. Not anymore. My father and I… My father and I were both sacked this morning."

Audrey gasped. "_Both of you?_ Why?"

"Retribution, I suppose," said Percy lightly, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Maybe a touch of blackmail too. I must admit… until now, I've always thought highly of our Minister. You see, we were terminated for our 'poor work ethic,' but that's utter rubbish. My father holds his department together and I had only just started at the Department of International Magical Cooperation. _Poor work ethic my foot._"

"Well… what _really_ happened?"

Percy raked his fingers through his hair. "My younger siblings both refused to turn down the positions of key witnesses in one of the most important trials of the century; a trial that will cast the Minister in a _very_ poor light if Sirius Black's name is cleared."

Audrey clutched his arm. "_Sirius Black?_ The mass-murder? He was all over the news last summer! Are you telling me that he's a _wizard?_"

He opened his mouth to say that Black was indeed a wizard, as well as an innocent man, when a high-pitched scream ripped through the air, interrupting him.

Audrey looked wildly around, terror-stricken, but Percy waved her off. The scream had come from the alleyway next to Gringotts, to which they were sitting quite close.

"Don't worry. The shops down Knockturn Alley sell all sorts of screaming merchandise. Distasteful products, but all of them are unfortunately legal."

The girl shook her head frantically. "No! No, you don't understand! That… _THAT WAS DENNIS!_"

"_What?"_

Clapping her hands over her mouth, Audrey whispered though her fingers, "C-Colin said he wanted to explore Knockturn Alley as we were driving to London! I didn't bother to ask what it was and… and I completely forgot! Oh God! I've got to-"

Percy jumped up and stepped in front of her as she tried to make a dash for the gate. "No! _I_ will go, not you!"

"B-But… _no!_"

"Yes! _You're_ staying here and you will _not,_ under any circumstances, go down that alleyway! Do you understand me, Miss Creevey?"

"I can't just sit by and do nothing!"

He whipped out his wand and lit the tip with a flick of his wrist. "Knockturn Alley is filled to the brim with wards and traps that _specifically_ target unsuspecting Muggles. You'll be in far more danger than _either_ of your brothers if you come with me. I'm begging you… Audrey, stay _here._

The girl searched his face, a glint of desperation in her beautiful, brown eyes. "Can... Can you promise me you'll find them?"

"I promise," said Percy tersely. "I'll find them."

She caught his sleeve as he made to go.

"Listen... I know we've only just met, but… _please_… bring them back to me_._"

"Don't worry. I will."

The girl bit her lip, but nodded and released him.

As Percy stalked down the narrow street wand ablaze, whispered jeers of _'Blood-traitor!'_ and _'Muggle-lover!'_ echoed in his wake. He paid them no mind. He doubted that any of Knockturn Alley's shady denizens would be brave enough to send a curse at him in the middle of the day. And even if they _did_ attack, it was very unlikely that they would last long against him in a fight. Percy was a Hogwarts Head Boy and these miscreants were the dregs of the wizarding world; the bottom-feeders that lurked in the shadows. Unless they were looking to shop, competent dark wizards wouldn't be found lingering in these streets, seeing as Aurors regularly popped in on patrol.

He crossed beneath a trellis and another scream echoed over the tightly-knit rooftops. It was coming from just ahead.

Percy darted forward, ducked into a pitch-black side alley and, to his surprise and horror, came face to face with the _ugliest_ hag he had ever seen. Trapped in its tight embrace, his mouth smothered by a warty, boil-covered hand, was a small, struggling boy. He looked remarkably like Colin Creevey.

Ceasing its efforts to gnaw the flesh from Dennis' bloodied fingers as the light from Percy's wand flooded into the alley, the hag hissed, "Go away! This is _my_ snack! Find your own!"

Percy leveled his wand at the crone. "Although hags may be classified as 'Magical Beings' under the current administrative system, they do not retain their given right to trial by court when charged with feeding on a human being. I am well within my rights to take lethal action against you. Release the boy, or I shall dispatch you here and now."

After a moment's hesitation, the hag threw Dennis aside and backed away into the shadows, snarling menacingly, "The storms are stirring, _wizard!_ Life begets death, death begets magic, and magic begets the end of all things! When your world is tumbling down around you, I pray that I might be there to see it!"

Percy refrained from lowering his wand until he could no longer hear the creature shuffling through the darkness.

"It's alright, Dennis," he said calmly, kneeling next to the whimpering boy that was cradling his half-eaten hand in his shirt. "You're safe now. I'm Percy. Your sister sent me to find you. Do you know where your brother is?"

Trembling in agony, Dennis gave a weak nod.

"Can you walk? Can you _show_ me?"

"My… my hand…" squeaked the boy. "I… I…"

Percy tapped the injured arm with his wand and the flesh that still remained attached to bone glowed with a soft blue light.

Dennis stopped trembling. He was staring at his hand in wonder. "That's _amazing!_ I can't feel a thing!"

Percy helped the boy to his feet. "That's magic for you. Unfortunately, healing isn't my strongest subject. A stasis charm is all I can do for you, but it _will_ stop the bleeding and the pain until we get you to a healer. Now… where's Colin?"

With his good hand, Dennis pulled Percy to an abandoned storefront at the back of the alley. The sign above the windows read: _**Borgin and Burkes**__._

"Colin really wanted to go in and explore... so we crawled through the back window. He didn't know that thing was living inside though. It knocked him out, I think. I tried to run… but it caught up to me."

Without hesitation, Percy blew the boarded-up door off its hinges with a well-placed curse and ran inside, hoping the hag had not yet returned to its lair. Within the shop, the smell of rotting meat was disgustingly thick. Thankfully, it didn't take him long to find Colin. The boy was indeed lying on the floor, out cold.

"_Ennervate."_

Brown eyes, which he suddenly realized were the exact same shade as Audrey's, slowly cracked open.

Percy grabbed both boys by their collars, turned on the spot, and disapparated, reappearing moments later on the steps of Gringotts.

A loud cry of both anguish and relief rattled his eardrums.

Before he even knew what was happening, two slender arms had encircled his neck.

As the softest pair of lips he had ever had the pleasure to kiss pressed into his own, Percy got the distinct impression that he was going to enjoy the rest of his day, despite having a rather miserable morning.

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As the click of the door-latch echoed in her ears, the familiar setting of the Dursley's kitchen slowly materialized from the darkness.

Harry couldn't bring herself to look at the small, black-haired girl standing at the stove, doing her best to make breakfast for the first time. Eight years later and she could still feel the heat of the frying pan searing the skin from her fingers.

A younger, yet still magnificently bulbous Uncle Vernon rustled the pages of his newspaper, flattening out the wrinkles. "I don't know _what_ that Stonewall Headmaster thinks he's doing, Petunia, sending our Dudders to remedial daycare. _Educators these days_; bungleheads, the lot of them!"

"Quite right," agreed Aunt Petunia mindlessly as she attempted to fit a large bib around her squirming son.

Dudley bounced up and down in his seat impatiently. "_Mum!_ I want my bacon! Make Harry _hurry!_"

The pencil-thin woman whirled about and glared directly towards the spot where Harry refused to turn her gaze. "Goodness, girl! Can you move _any_ slower?"

"I'm _sorry_, Auntie," squeaked a pained voice. "I… I can't hold the pan very well. I keep burning my hand."

Her uncle chortled nastily. "Well… serves you right for spilling tea on the carpet, doesn't it?"

"I didn't spill anything! Dudley-"

"Don't you _dare_ blame, Dudley, you _ungrateful_ little snot!"

As Uncle Vernon continued to scold her six-year-old self, a freckled arm snaked around Harry's waist and pulled her into a gentle hug. "This is horrible. I just… I just don't understand why they're so cruel to you."

With an uncaring shrug, Harry leaned into Ginny's shoulder and whispered, "Honestly, Gin, this is nothing. Don't worry about it."

The redhead tightened the embrace, pressing a soft kiss into her hair. "The fact that you think that makes it even worse. You were _so_ young. They had no right to-"

"Well they did it anyway," she cut in morosely, "almost every day. Is that enough to lock this one away?"

Ginny nodded into her neck. "Yeah. Plenty."

After giving Dudley's large backside a swift kick, which her young cousin probably wouldn't have felt even if he _had_ been real thanks to his sumptuous coating of blubber, Harry turned and walked out of the memory.

"Well, that's eight-hundred and twenty-three down," said Ginny proudly, slumping against the wall after closing and sealing the door behind them.

"Yeah… and thousands more to go," mumbled Harry, gesturing down the length of the seemingly endless corridor. "Come on. Let's get to it."

The freckled girl groaned. "Why are you making _me_ do all the hard work? Can't we stop? I'm tired."

Harry promptly corrected her. "No you're not._ I'm_ the tired one. You're just a figment of my imagination; the positive thought holding my mental barriers together. You're me… nothing more."

Smiling deviously, Ginny stood, reached upwards, and slid the straps of her yellow sundress over her shoulders.

"Are you _sure_ about that, Har? Don't I look like Ginny?"

Harry's mouth went dry as the garment fell away from her friend's curves like a veil of cascading water.

Sauntering forward with a predatory gleam in her gold-flecked eyes, Ginny trapped her against the wall, pressed their bodies together, and breathed into her ear, "Don't I look… _sexy?_"

Hard though Harry tried, she couldn't manage a reply that consisted of anything more complex than a string of unintelligible gurgles. The lack of knickers and bra beneath the redhead's dress had turned her brain to mush, making the search for words nigh impossible.

"That's what I thought," whispered Ginny, hands falling to Harry's thighs, inching the hem of her skirt upwards. "You want me, don't you? I know you do. Say it; say you want me; say you'll stay with me forever."

Harry rapidly shook her head, unwilling to submit to the desires burning in her heart.

The redhead frowned and nuzzled Harry's cheek, pressing soft kisses along her jaw. "But… _I'm your Ginny._ Forever and ever; that's what we said."

_Forever and ever… _

_Maybe this is alright._

_Maybe this will help._

_Maybe she… maybe she…_

_No!_

Harry frantically beat down the traitorous thoughts, horrified that control was slipping away from her so easily.

Losing herself in a false reality was a very _real_ risk of using the memory of a loved-one's personality to manage her mental barriers. It was by far one of the riskiest methods she had found in her Advanced Occlumency book, but it was also the easiest and one of the strongest. After she fully mastered this, she figured that she would be prepared to experiment with the more difficult methods, the strongest and most complex of which involved temporarily ridding one's mind of all memories apart from one, thus trapping intruders in a vision of one's choosing.

Shutting her eyes tight and clearing her mind of all negative emotions, Harry replaced the memory holding her barriers together with another. The subtle hint of strawberry that was lingering in her nostrils faded. The air around her became heavy and thick. It felt like an extra layer of protection had sprung into place; an extra layer that smelled vaguely of grass.

When she finally reopened her eyes, Ron, not Ginny, stood before her.

"If you were Ginny," muttered Harry smugly, "I wouldn't have been able to do that. Now please, get back to work."

"You're no fun at all, mate," replied Ron, blatantly disregarding her command. "No one has to know about what happens in here. Why don't we find a nice memory of a bedroom and have some fun."

"For the love of… _You too?_ Damn't, Ron! Whatever happened to not wanting to hurt Hermione's feelings?"

The boy grinned. His large hands slid around Harry's thighs and with a single heave, he hoisted her off the ground, pinning her against the wall at eye level.

"We don't need to hold back here. Mione will never know. We can shag all you want; all your fantasies made real. You could probably have Gin and I at the same time if you concentrated. I know you've thought about it."

"Put me _down_, Ron! Put me down this-"

The words died in her throat as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her neck.

The trail of tingles his tongue left on her skin, his hot, heavy breath on her collarbone, his arousal grinding into her stomach; it all felt so real. It felt _better_ than real.

"Why should you go back to them?" whispered Ron, Ginny's voice echoing within the undertone. "_They_ don't want you. _We_ want you. We _love_ you. Stay here, Harry. Stay here with us."

Harry squealed in surprise as his hand slid into the back of her knickers. Shivers of anticipation raced up and down her body.

She wanted this. She wanted this so badly… but…

_He isn't Ron._

_She isn't Ginny._

_This is… _

_This is make-believe._

Closing her eyes, Harry reconfigured her barriers once again and fell to the ground in a heap as Ron's hands disappeared.

An eleven-year-old Draco loomed above her, staring down at himself dubiously.

"Really? _Me?_"

Picking herself up, Harry shrugged and pushed the boy down the hall. "Yes, _you._ I've no desire to shag you, do I?"

The blonde, who was, for the very first time, smaller than she was, raised a platinum eyebrow and smirked lasciviously. "I dunno. _Do you?_"

Harry scoffed and flicked the young boy in the nose. "I've had enough of this. When I come back, it's straight to work; no more nonsense."

Draco's smirk widened. "You do realize that everything we're saying is exactly what _you_ want to hear, don't you?"

Ignoring him, Harry yanked her consciousness out of her mental corridor.

As the senses of her physical body came rushing back, she immediately regretted the decision to spend the summer's first cool, dewy morning out on the playground.

Warm sweat was dripping down her neck, her hair was matted against her forehead, and her eyes were burning from prolonged exposure to the sun's bright reflection in the surrounding metal. The very air felt like it was on fire.

Although the skies above Britain had always been rather fickle, Harry hadn't failed to notice the bouts of peculiar weather they had been having lately. One minute, it would be pouring icy rain, and the next, it would be dry and swelteringly hot. Despite being naturally averse to admitting that anything was unusual, after being bombarded by hail the size of golf balls on what was meant to be a pleasant day, even Uncle Vernon had remarked that the climate was behaving strangely.

As she stripped off her sweat-soaked jumper, something Flamel had said during their second encounter at the fountain floated back to her.

'_I fear that the world is changing. I fear that the world is wrong.'_

Harry snorted.

_Well, if this isn't wrong, then I'm a pink elephant._

Standing and stretching, she grinned widely as she imagined the many reactions Luna might have to that thought if said aloud.

Even though the first few days living with the odd blonde whose father she had indirectly murdered _had_ been rather uncomfortable, she was slowly coming to terms with the idea that having Luna around was more blessing than burden. The girl was always good for a much needed laugh and she had a knack for avoiding subjects that Harry didn't want to talk about; rarely did Voldemort, the events at the Platform, or Pettigrew's upcoming trial ever come up in their conversations.

The trial…

In just a few days time, Sirius would either be a free man… or a convict for life.

Fudge had barred her from being a witness, saying that her statements would be biased due to Pettigrew's relationship with her parents. While that reasoning wasn't entirely unsound, what good her not being there would do for the Minister in the long run, Harry didn't know. Even though Draco had refused to be a witness, which wasn't that surprising given who his father was, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Dumbledore would _all_ be there to give their accounts of Peter's capture. It wasn't an absolute certainty, but she was relatively confident that the four testimonies would be enough.

With a tired sigh, Harry clambered down the side of the jungle-gym and made her way over to where she'd left Luna rocking back and forth on a spring-loaded horse.

The blonde, however, wasn't alone. Two familiar boys, one large and one small, were standing on either side of her. From the looks they were giving Luna, it was quite obvious that they were… _interested_.

And _that_ was unacceptable.

Neither Dennis Hartley nor Gordon Smith had ever been as cruel to Harry as Dudley, Malcolm, and Piers had been, but due to the fear of being beaten by Dudley, a fear shared by the entirety of Stonewall Primary, they had still avidly participated in baiting her at every opportunity.

Not at all being in a forgiving sort of mood, Harry picked up a small stone and chucked it as hard as she could at Dennis' head. While the rock did unfortunately miss, it certainly managed to catch the small boy's attention.

"Oi! What the bloody hell are you playing at, you fucking b-"

Dennis abruptly stopped speaking when their eyes met.

"Get away from her, Hartley," said Harry coolly, layering on several airs of false confidence. "Go stick your prick somewhere else."

The boy's jaw fell open. _"H-Harry?_ Harriet Potter? Is that _you?_"

"So what if it is?"

Before Dennis could reply, Dudley, in all his massive glory, pounded through the playground's gate. He was dripping with sweat and clutching at a stitch in his side. If Harry hadn't known better that her cousin never physically exerted himself to the point of exhaustion, she might have thought he had been sprinting. It was a completely ridiculous premise.

To Harry's intense displeasure, Piers and Malcolm were following in her cousin's wake.

Piers' reaction when he saw her was far more drastic than Dennis'. The boy went white as a sheet and leapt behind Dudley's hulking form. "Dud! It's her! It's that girl; the one I told you about!"

"_That_ girl?" squawked Dennis, laughing uproariously at Piers' display of cowardice. "It's only Dudley's mental cousin, you pansy! What are you afraid of? Don't you recognize her?"

"I… _what?_ Dudley's _cousin?_"

Gordon clapped the boy on the back. "Mate, how can you not remember Hairy Harry?"

Piers stared at the taller boy in shock. "Harry… Harry… I don't… _what?_"

"Come on!" shouted Dennis jovially. "It's _Potter!_ You can't have just _forgotten_ her!"

Harry started to panic. The boy's churning surface thoughts were being violently tossed about by his subconscious. The memory charm the Ministry officials had used on Piers, despite its obvious strength, didn't seem like it was able to fight against nine years of oppressed memories when put to the test of her name being dropped repeatedly. She could actually _see_ the dislodged gears of his brain snapping back into place.

When a glint of recognition flickered within the blonde's narrowed eyes, Harry grabbed Luna's hand. "Come on. We're going."

Oblivious to the very real danger that was currently developing around them, Luna smiled and slowly slid off the horse. "Alright, Harry. Can we visit Mrs. Figg now? I'd like to inspect her cats for Natterworms."

"We'll do that later," Harry mumbled, firmly pulling the girl towards the gate. "We just… We have to get out of here… right now."

Piers stepped in front of them, effectively blocking the exit, confusion smeared across his pinched face. "Wait a moment. I recognize you from the alleyway… but… I _know_ you, don't I?"

Harry inconspicuously reached into her pocket, searching for the comforting feel of her wand. "_Sorry,_ but I think you're mistaken."

The boy shook his head. "No… No… I'm not. I _know_ you. I just… I can't remember from where."

"Please, get out of my way."

"No… wait… I... just let me-"

Although having remained remarkably calm thus far, when Piers moved to close the space between them, Harry instinctively flinched away, whipping out her wand in the process.

The boy's eyes steadily widened as he gazed upon the shaft of holly. Out of nowhere, like an invisible fist had hit him squarely in the jaw, Piers stumbled and began to clutch at his head as if it was paining him.

"No…" he gasped. "No… You're… You're… _Harry Potter!_"

Harry frantically tried to push her way past the blonde before he regained his bearings. She was halfway through the gate when a hand latched onto her arm.

Even though it was a loose grip, his touch was agonizing. All the beatings and all the torment came flooding back to the forefront of her mind. Because of Piers, she had been left to die in a cupboard. Because of Piers, Voldemort had wanted to know how she had survived death. Because of Piers, Ginny had been tortured for hours on end.

"Let me go!" shouted Harry, struggling fiercely. "Let me go!"

Piers straightened. "_No._ I don't think I will, _freak._"

She tried her best not to shiver at his icy tone. "I'm… I'm warning you, Piers! Let me go or else!"

"Or else? _OR ELSE?_" The glint of recognition in Piers' eyes had dissolved into fury. "I _remember_ you, you little cunt! The glass, the snake, the explosion; those men came and they made me forget, but I remember now! I remember _everything!_"

Luna chose that inopportune moment to chime, "Harry… this boy's Nargle infection seems particularly mean-spirited. I'd very much like to leave."

Piers' expression darkened. "Neither one of you is going anywhere! That dog… I thought I was going _mad_ for a whole year, but you _did_ something to me, didn't you? You made me... _see_ things! Well… you'll _pay_ for that one, Potter!"

Harry was well aware of what the ramifications for using magic in this situation would be, but both her logic and reason had flown out the window the second the boy had touched her.

Terrified, she jabbed her wand into his chest.

"_Ssaiassess-_

"NO!"

Harry jumped in surprise as Dudley's large form slammed into Piers. She was even more shocked when her cousin grabbed the boy by the scruff of the neck and proceeded to wrestle him to the ground.

Confused shouts of "Oi!" and "Dud!" and "D, get off me!" echoed across the hilltop.

Paying his friends no mind, Dudley looked her square in the eye and grunted, "Take Luna. Go home. Don't leave the house."

Wasting no time trying to make sense of Dudley's uncharacteristic behavior, Harry tugged on Luna's arm and together, they darted away from the gang of boys, running back to Number Four with all the haste they could muster.

Relieved that they had escaped, yet still quite on edge, Harry stalked up to her room, flung open the two-way door, and marched into her small kitchen. Taking a page out of Ginny's book, she grabbed the enchanted blender from the counter and repeatedly flung it at the wall with all her might. The satisfaction of shattering the unbreakable appliance did little to soothe her roiling emotions, but it was far more satisfying than any of her Occlumency exercises had ever been.

As the blender rebuilt itself for the tenth time, there was a soft hiss from the windowsill.

"_Hass that sshiny object offended you, Harry sspeaker? If not, then I ssee no reasson to punissh it with ssuch fervor."_

Harry slammed the appliance down on the counter. "I hate it here, Alice! I hate it so damn much!"

Alice fixed her with a beady, green eye. _"Thiss I know. You have ssaid it many timess."_

"I just want to go home," she muttered, slumping against the icebox. "I just want… I just… I want…"

"_You want your Ginny sspeaker?"_

Harry nodded weakly. "This house… this _life_; it reminds me of everything I'm missing. I've been trying _so_ hard not to think about her, but the harder I try, the harder it gets."

"_Perhapss you need ssomething to disstract you._"

"Like what? We're trapped here."

"_Mmmmmmm... Why don't you mate with the yellow Luna human to passss the time? Her dessire for you iss potent enough to tickle my tongue, sso I am ssure sshe would be more than willing._"

"_Alice!_ That's an _awful_ thing to suggest!"

"_Why? You find her attractive. I have sseen you looking..." _

Harry spluttered indignantly, feeling a warm, rosy blush rising to her cheeks. "That's not the point! I'm not going to go and _use_ Luna for… for…"

She trailed off as the snake burst into a fit of gurgling hisses.

Alice was unmistakably laughing at her.

Ears burning from embarrassment, Harry grabbed a banana peel from this morning's breakfast and tossed it at the little reptile.

"Thanks. A ribbing is _just_ what I needed…"

Instead of dodging, Alice let the yellow missile fall squarely on her head and then lovingly coiled around its length.

"_You make it too eassy, Chica."_

"You're getting much too cheeky for your own good," mumbled Harry. "Maybe I should neglect you and lavish Circe with attention instead? _She_ doesn't poke fun at me."

"_I'm sstill your favorite."_

With a begrudging sigh of agreement, Harry gently rubbed the snake's chin and left the kitchen to search for Luna. After scouring every inch of the Two-Way room, including the closet, which Luna was oddly fond of, she eventually found the girl daintily sniffing the rather potent collection of perfumes in Aunt Petunia's bathroom.

"Luna, what in God's name are you doing?"

"_Oh_… hello, Harry," muttered Luna absently as she ran her fingers over the assorted vials. "Have you finished breaking things?"

"Erm… yeah," laughed Harry sheepishly. " Sorry about that. I was just working things out. Bit upset. Come back to the room, will you? My relatives will go spare if they find you in here."

The girl picked up a small bottle and examined it closely. After holding it up to the light, she balanced it on top of her head. "Oh good… this is perfect! Do you think it will be strong enough to flush them out?"

"Perfect for what?" asked Harry as she eyed the perfume nervously, readying herself to dive for it should it fall. "Flush who out?"

"The Natterworts on Mrs. Figg's cats of course; you said we would visit."

"Oh… _yeah_… but I can't go out there. Piers, he… he remembers me now and I… well, you _saw_ what he was like. Had Dudley not stopped him… I… I would've lost it and really hurt him. He's _awful,_ Luna. Just the sight of him makes me want to retch."

Bottle teetering precariously, Luna slowly spun about. "Harry, do you realize that you often say one thing when you seem to really mean the opposite? It's quite fascinating."

"What? No I don't."

"Oh but you _do._ You said that girls aren't allowed to like each other, but I heard you moaning Ginny's name on the playground. It sounded quite erotic, you see."

Harry blanched, hoping to God that Ginny wasn't currently using her Looking Glass. "I was… _moaning?_ Out… _Out loud?_"

"Oh yes… and you were making quite a lot of noise too." The blonde cocked her head curiously and the vial of perfume fell neatly into her open palm. "Were you breaking the rules?"

Harry's stomach twisted with a pang of guilt. "Erm… _right_… about that… For a long time now, I've been meaning to-"

"It's alright," interrupted Luna, her eyes glazing over as they always did whenever she retreated into her thoughts. "I break the rules quite often and nothing terrible seems to come of it."

"Luna… I need to tell you-"

"I don't mean to break them, but sometimes I just can't seem to help myself."

"_Luna_, I-"

"Whenever I look at you, I feel very good and I find myself wishing that we could kiss again. You see, I like kissing you, Harry. You taste quite nice. But the rules say-"

Frustrated, Harry grabbed the dazed blonde by the shoulders and firmly shook her. "Luna! Listen to me! _There are no rules!"_

The unfocused glaze fell from Luna's eyes like shattered glass falling from a window pane.

"W-What? What do you mean?"

Swallowing the hard lump in her throat, Harry slowly repeated herself.

"I… _Luna_… There aren't _rules_. You can… You're free to like whoever you want."

"But… But you said-"

"I know what I said!" moaned Harry, quickly bundling the odd Ravenclaw into a fierce hug. "But I was _wrong!_ I was so _unbelievably_ wrong! I was… I was an utter _idiot_ back then. I couldn't realize my own feelings for what they were and I… God… Luna, I'm _so_ sorry. Please, forgive me."

"You… You… _lied?_"

"_No!"_ cried Harry desperately as she squeezed Luna even tighter, tangling her fingers into the hair at the back of the girl's neck. "I just… at the time… I thought what I was saying was true! Please Luna! I've wanted to apologize for _ages_, but I couldn't work up the nerve! Please believe me! Don't… Don't be angry…"

The blonde's entire body began to heave with deep, staggering breaths. "I… I don't… I don't… I don't… H-Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I… I don't like peas."

Luna shuddered and went limp.

0000

0000

0000

0000

He was running through the forest as fast as his feet could carry him. And yet, no matter how fast he ran, it felt as if he never moved.

Ron?

Harry was just ahead. Her silent screams pulled at him, wrenched at him, but he couldn't reach her. He felt lost; he felt helpless.

Ron, wake up.

He couldn't protect her. He couldn't protect anyone. He was weak. He was useless. He was the Weasley that didn't matter.

"Oh for goodness' sake. Ronald, _wake up!_"

With a great, shuddering gasp, Ron jolted upright, his limbs still moving in the throes of his vivid nightmare.

"Ouch!"

It took him more than a few hazy moments of frantically scanning his surroundings before he realized where he was.

He wasn't lost.

He wasn't even in a forest.

He was in his room.

And sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing gingerly at the side of her head, was Hermione.

Tossing aside the covers, Ron crawled over to the girl and gently pulled her hand away from her temple. Even in the dark, he could still make out the rather large bruise forming on her hairline.

"Merlin! _Sorry_, Mione. I didn't mean to whack you."

Hermione caught his retreating wrist, brought it gently back to the bruise, and then tilted her head into his fingers. "I know. I could tell you were having a bad dream. Were you running through the forest again?"

"Yeah. Whenever Harry goes and gets herself hurt, I start having it every night for weeks."

'_Not every night,'_ protested a small voice at the back of his head. _'You should tell her about yesterday; about the broom cupboard full of toffee-apples; about how she was using them to-'_

Ron mentally squashed the voice under his boot.

"Still, I'm sorry. I'll get Mum to heal that in a jiff."

Hermione giggled and patted his knee. "Honestly, Ron, I'm fine. It's my own fault for hovering over you like that. You… You were sweating and I… well, I wanted to make sure you were alright."

As a flash of lightning illuminated the tiny room, Ron saw that the bushy-haired girl wasn't wearing much of anything. In fact, between the two of them, their clothing consisted only of a body-hugging nightgown, whatever lay beneath said nightgown, and a pair of Chudley Cannons boxers.

Feeling the tips of his ears heating at a tremendous rate, Ron made a half-hearted effort to look away from her prominent curves; curves that usually remained hidden beneath her school uniform and a various assortment of modest clothing; curves that he wanted to feel pressed against his-

A massive roll of thunder shook the house and thankfully tore him from the fantasy rapidly taking shape in the naughtier parts of his imagination.

"S-So…" he stuttered breathlessly, "what's up? It's the middle of the night."

Hermione released his hand, stood, and went to shut the bedroom door, her hips swaying tantalizingly with every step. "_Well_… I was just hoping… I was just hoping you'd let me sleep in here with you tonight."

Ron's jaw fell slack. "You… You _what?_"

The girl must have realized how forward her statement must've sounded, because she hastily corrected herself, looking flustered.

"I don't mean _together_, you prat! I brought the cot!"

"O-Oh," stuttered Ron as he glimpsed the folded bed behind her. "Right… of course. Well, it's fine with me, but… but what's wrong with Ginny's room?"

Hermione let out a tired sigh and began to set up her bed across from his own. "I love Gin to pieces… I really do… but she's driving me _bonkers_, Ron. It's like she's become nocturnal! All night, she just… well… she _paces_ around the room. And when she isn't pacing, she's at the window muttering to herself as she watches Harry in her Looking Glass. After a year getting only three hours of sleep each day, I really need to catch up on rest… and I just _can't_ with her bouncing off the walls like that. She's clearly upset. Do you think you could talk to her?"

Ron frowned and sank backwards into his bedding. "Blimey… that's not like Ginny. I know she's been a bit off since the Shack, I mean… she bloody collapsed at Dinner yesterday… but I didn't think it was _that_ bad."

Hermione climbed into the cot. "Well, I don't think looking like she's been put through a meat grinder has helped much either. Why didn't she let Madam Pomfry heal her?"

"Dunno," sighed Ron. "I think she wants the scars to help sway the verdict at the trial. Maybe she's scared of what Harry will do if Peter isn't convicted. Hell, I sure am."

The bushy-haired girl reached out across the gap between their beds and clasped Ron's hand, entwining their fingers. "Harry's gotten _so_ much better at controlling her outbursts. I don't think we have to worry."

Ron snorted. "Are you kidding? Saying we don't have to worry about Harry is like saying we don't have to be wary of accepting food from Fred and George."

"Good point," mumbled Hermione sleepily, shutting her eyes and snuggling down into her pillow. "But there's really nothing we can do to help her right now_._"

"Yeah… I know. And I'll try and talk to Gin in the morning; see what's bothering her."

Hermione brushed her thumb over his palm. "Thanks."

"No problem. Night, Mione."

"Mmmm… Night, Ron… Love you…"

Ron went very still. He waited silently for Hermione to suddenly blush and take back those last two words, but when the sound of her muffled snores filled the room, he realized that perhaps her tongue hadn't slipped. Sure, she had it before, but never so plainly and unreserved.

For the rest of the night, despite being beyond tired, Ron lay wide awake. Every time he tried to close his eyes, the desire to open them and watch the beautiful girl lying at his side became too strong to resist.

Not that he was complaining...

In her tossing and turning, Hermione's sheet had slid from her upper body and the hem of her nightie had ridden high above her belly. Stealing a few brief glimpses of her flat stomach as it was cast into stark relief by the occasional bolt of lightning was far more gratifying than getting a few hours sleep.

Although Ron had sworn to himself that he wasn't going to choose between his best friends, as the night wore on, as he gazed upon her shadowy silhouette, it became harder and harder to remember why he was resisting. He longed to pull her close; to feel her creamy skin beneath his palms; to run his lips along every inch of her body.

But resist he did.

He resisted right up until the dark storm clouds broke above the Burrow.

As dawn's first rays of summer sunshine streamed through the window, showering the room with light, Hermione shifted in her sleep, moaned into the pillow, and uttered one single word.

Upon hearing her call out his name, Ron's strength of will evaporated. Sliding from his bed, he sat upon the edge of the cot, reached out, and swept away the strands of hair that had fallen into the girl's face during the night.

At his touch, her chocolaty-brown eyes fluttered open.

"R-Ron?"

His chest tightened as she reflexively turned her cheek into his hand. Her skin was softer than silk.

"Yeah. Morning."

"Mmmm… Oh God," she moaned sleepily. "What time is it?"

"About six," replied Ron, wishing the smell of her toffee-apple shampoo wasn't so heavenly pungent. "I think Mum's up. Someone's been banging 'round the kitchen."

The girl yawned, stretched like a particularly miffed housecat, and propped herself up. "_Six?_ But… you _never_ get up this early. Is something wrong?"

Ron shrugged. "I couldn't sleep. Not with… Not with you so close."

"What? Not with-"

Hermione stopped speaking as her heavy-lidded gaze traveled first to Ron's palm, which was still cupping her cheek, and then to his bare chest. Biting her lip, she raised a trembling hand and ran her fingers over his abdomen, prodding here and there… as if she wasn't quite sure he was real. When at last she seemed satisfied that he was indeed flesh and blood, her face turned bright red.

"_Ron_… what are you doing?"

Heart thudding rapidly against the walls of his ribcage, Ron slipped his other arm around her waist and breathed raggedly, "I don't know. And I don't care. I don't _care_ anymore, Mione. I just… I want to-"

BANG

"RONALD _WEASLEY!_"

Ron jumped backwards as the door to his attic bedroom flew open. Unfortunately for everyone involved, he stumbled over Hermione's bedding and fell, collapsing in a tangled heap at the foot of the cot. Wrapped in a sheet and utterly terrified, he turned to face the newcomer that had just barged in on what he was sure looked like an extraordinarily compromising situation given his lack of clothing and previous proximity to a girl whose lacy, white knickers were now exposed for all the world to see.

"M-Mum! It's not what it looks like!"

His mother swelled and stalked into the room, her eyes bulging with fury. "HOW _DARE_ YOU, RONALD! NOT EVEN FIFTEEN!"

"No!" squeaked Hermione desperately. "Mrs. Weasley, we weren't-"

"AND _YOU!_" screamed the enraged woman, rounding on the bushy-haired girl. "I EXPECTED BETTER FROM SUCH A SMART GIRL! OUT OF THIS ROOM, YOUNG LADY! GET OUT! NOW!"

With a demure "Yes, Ma'am," Hermione bolted from the bedroom, pulling the hem of her short nightgown as low as it could possibly go as she ran.

With a flick of her wand, his mother shut the door and let loose.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

"Mum, we didn't-"

"I HAVE HALF A MIND NOT TO LET YOU GO BACK TO HOGWARTS!"

Ron's temper flared. "No! Listen to me. I-"

"DON'T THINK FOR A MOMENT THAT YOU'RE STILL GOING TO THE WORLD CUP! YOU'LL BE SCRUBBING MY FLOORS FOR THE REST OF THE SUMMER! NO MAGIC!"

"Oh for the love of Merlin! Mum, just let me-"

"I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO ASHAMED IN MY-"

"BLOODY HELL!" yelled Ron at the top of his voice, losing any and all patience he had for being treated like a four-year-old. "WILL YOU BE QUIET FOR TWO _RUDDY_ SECONDS AND LET ME EXPLAIN!"

Watching her physically backpedal with a stunned and somewhat hurt expression was like watching a balloon rapidly deflate.

"_Ronald_… I… I… Goodness me."

All his righteous anger drained away as she sank into a chair, clutching her heart.

"Blimey… Mum… _I'm sorry_… I didn't mean to go off like that. It's just… we didn't _do_ anything! _I swear!_ Look… two different beds. Ginny was keeping Hermione awake, so she slept in here. We were only… talking."

Once his mother had calmed, she fixed him with a hard glare. "And _how_ do you explain your nakedness?"

"It was hot last night!" protested Ron incredulously. "I swear, Mum! _Nothing_ happened!"

"Not for lack of _trying_, I'm sure," said the woman sternly. "What were you doing on her bed? I suppose you think it quite impossible to talk to someone without embracing them?"

Admittedly, he had no excuse for that. He hadn't quite known what it was that he had wanted to do… but he definitely would have done _something_ had they not been interrupted.

"Ronald… Do you think I don't know what's going on between the two of you? I'm telling you now that under my roof, no child of mine will be allowed to…_ procreate._"

"MERLIN'S BUGGERED ARSE, MUM!" cried Ron, feeling like she hadn't heard a word he had said. "We weren't bloody _shagging!_ I mean, yeah… I _like_ her, alright? But we're… we're just… _friends._"

Even to his own ears, the word sounded wrong.

His mother stood and straightened her apron primly. "Oh yes… _friends_. I think that's quite enough lying for one day, Ronald. And also, should I hear any more of your foul language, I'll give your mouth such a thorough scourgifying, you'll be spitting up soap for a year. Do you understand me?"

"Fine," muttered Ron, knowing it was pointless to argue once his mother adopted her _'This conversation is finished'_ tone. "I understand."

"Good. Now get dressed. You'll be doing _everyone's_ chores today. You can start by mucking out the chickens."

Not looking forward to a whole day of hard work, Ron took his sweet time getting dressed. After a good half hour of fiddling with his socks, he realized he wouldn't be able to put it off much longer and might as well just bite the bullet and get it over with. Grumbling bitterly, he thumped downstairs as loudly as possible to better express his outrage. When he crossed into the parlor, a head of unwashed cherry-red hair rose above the edge of an armchair.

"_S-Sorry_, Ron. It's my fault. I was making tea early this morning and I left my door open. Mum probably went upstairs to use the loo, saw the cot was gone and… well… I suppose she just knew."

Ron circled the chair and collapsed next to his disheveled baby sister, cradling his head in his hands. "But nothing _bloody_ happened!"

"Does it matter?" asked Ginny, her voice quavering strangely. "M-Mum's not stupid. Hermione could have taken the cot anywhere, but she took it to _your_ room."

"So?"

"So… _don't be daft_. She _wanted_ to be in there with you. She _wanted_ you to see her in that ridiculous nightgown. Do you know where she bought it? _The Witching Hour._ It doesn't take an alchemist to know what she was hoping for."

Ron felt his ears turning pink. "Shut it."

Ginny responded with her usual reply of, "Make me," although it seemed rather half-hearted.

He looked up, fully prepared to 'make her,' but immediately lost the will to follow through. No matter how many times he saw it, it always caught him off guard. The jagged lines carved into Ginny's cheeks were monstrous. The scar tissue around the cuts was still bright red, raised, and perforated with tiny scabs. She didn't even _look_ like his sister anymore.

"_Please_, don't stare at me like that, Ron. I'm trying _really_ hard to ignore them."

"I know," he mumbled guiltily, casting his eyes towards the floor. "Still can't get used to it."

"It can't be helped. She needs me to… to… She needs… but… but I suppose Luna will…"

Ginny trailed off. She sounded terribly out of sorts, as if she had just gotten the surprise of a lifetime.

Ron didn't need to ask who his sister was referring to. Reaching for her empty hand, the hand not clenched tightly around her Looking Glass, he asked as sincerely as he possibly could, "Gin… you alright?"

Ginny jumped, startled by the physical contact, but then squeezed his fingers reassuringly. "Don't worry. They don't hurt."

Ron grimaced. "That's not what I mean. I know you miss her… but blimey… when was the last time you _really_ slept?"

Ginny wrenched her hand from his grasp. "What does… What does _that_ have to do with anything? Mind your own... I'm… I'm… _I'm fine._"

Without another word, his sister pushed herself off the couch and hurriedly walked away.

"Yeah…" muttered Ron as he watched her feet ascending the staircase, "sure you are."

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For the first time in her life, Pansy was having quite a lot of trouble maintaining the fake smile that she used to disguise her apathy.

The party had all the expected pitfalls of a Ministry sponsored function: the conversation was painfully dull, her heels were killing her, and she was being forced to mingle with common witches and wizards to whom she'd rather give up all her wealth than associate with. Normally, she would have found the entire ordeal quite easy to endure, but today was different. Today, each little annoyance was made unbearable due to one single detail:

Draco wasn't at her side.

A somewhat portly man whose name Pansy couldn't quite remember began to gesticulate wildly, drawing the eyes of everyone around him. "An eighty-thousand galleon profit? I would have thought it impossible in such a competitive market! However did you manage it, Albert?"

"Oh… just smart investing, Ludo," grunted one of her father's underlings, looking overly pleased with himself. "It'll be a long time before a broom can top the Firebolt. It sports charms of a certain caliber that take years to perfect. Knew it would be top of the line the moment I heard its specifications. It was an obvious shoo-in for the World Cup's standard equipment list."

"You must be thrilled," said her father with disinterest, obviously not impressed by the pitiful sum.

"Indeed I am, Cassius. A hefty investment in the right market never fails to pay off. You know, just the other day I was-"

Pansy didn't hear anything after that. She had let her thoughts stray to the handsome boy lying in bed three floors above her head. She sorely wished she could get away to see him, if only for a moment, but the opportunity had failed time and again to present itself.

Ever since he had come back from his debacle with the Mudblood's Time-Turner, her husband-to-be had seemed unnaturally withdrawn. However, when questioned as to why this was, he would revert to his usual sarcastic self. It wasn't until this morning, when she had arrived at Malfoy Manor to find Draco passed out in his bed, clinging to a bottle of Firewhiskey, that Pansy _knew_ something was wrong.

It couldn't have been a problem resulting from his injuries, seeing as the healers had made him good as new. It seemed deeper… much deeper. Something inside him had changed… and Pansy wasn't quite sure she was alright with that. He was her property, after all. It was terribly impolite of him to have an emotional upheaval without her express permission.

Naturally, Draco was far too sloshed to appear in front of so many Ministry workers, so Pansy had no choice but to attend the party without him. Rebutting the approaches of the many young men who were courageous enough to ask her dance was getting quite tiresome. The thought of being with them repulsed her. In her eyes, in her dreams, there was only ever Draco.

"Do you agree, Pansy?"

She snapped back to the present as the heads of the many adults swarming around her father swiveled in her direction.

Pansy's gaze flicked towards her father. She attempted to convey with her eyes alone that she hadn't been paying the slightest bit of attention.

Thankfully, he seemed to understand. With a miniscule twitch of his head, her father nodded pointedly.

Pansy instantaneously responded with a well-rehearsed, generic answer, followed by a smidgeon of polite subterfuge to evade further questioning.

"Yes. I agree completely. Oh dear… I ever so love listening to such important wizards talking shop, but I'm afraid I need to pop out and freshen up. Do continue, Mr. Runcorn."

Without allowing anyone time to protest, she made a beeline for the washroom. However, as soon as she rounded the corner and was shielded from prying eyes, she ducked into a side corridor to twist the handle of a sword protruding from a Malfoy coat-of-arms.

Like an apple bobbing from water, a door popped out of the wall at her side, revealing a hidden staircase.

She climbed the steps two at a time, which she thought was quite an accomplishment while wearing stilleto heels, and emerged mere steps from her destination. The lavish design of the enormous slab of oak consistently took her breath away. It was decorated with an elaborate, magical engraving depicting a regal Hybridean Black that was bathing in its own fire.

As her hand latched onto the elegant gold handle laid into the dragon's tail, a familiar scream of frustration echoed through the door. There was a short pause… and then something that sounded immensely expensive smashed into the other side of the wood.

_Draco…_

Inching the door open, Pansy cautiously peered through the crack.

The state of her fiancee's room suggested that somewhere in Malfoy Manor there raged a herd of stampeding hippogriffs. Debris of what looked like furniture littered every inch of the chamber, the windows had all been shattered, and fragments of the once-magnificent crystal chandelier lay scattered at Pansy's feet.

The many facades that she had put up over the course of the evening all came tumbling down when she saw Draco standing in the middle of the chaos, muttering heatedly beneath his breath.

"What does it matter? What does any of this matter? We're all dead. _Dead._"

For someone who hadn't spent the majority of their childhood trailing after the blonde, assuming the destruction of the room to be an act of rage would be an easy mistake to make.

But Pansy knew better.

This wasn't anger. Draco expressed fury through either his wand or his words.

This was something else entirely.

This was fear.

It was futility and pain.

He was afraid and like a cornered snake, he was physically lashing out.

Pansy had never seen him so frightened and that in turn frightened _her._ She had half a mind to run back to the party, yet her sense of duty as a future Malfoy spurred her to take action. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, she slipped into the room and cleared her throat.

Draco drunkenly whirled around, stumbling over his own feet. "Go away! Leave me alone!"

Pansy raised an eyebrow and calmly gestured at the destruction around them. "Draco… you need to stop. Your mother isn't going to be happy about this."

"Stuff my mother!" yelled the blonde, violently waving a large piece of shattered vase through the air. "STUFF HER!"

"Keep your voice down," whispered Pansy, wrinkling her nose as she approached him. "Ugh… You _reek_ of whiskey."

"And?"

"And I want you to shower."

Draco sank to his knees in front of her and wrapped his arms around her thighs. "What does it matter, Pans? Either way, we lose. Either way, we die. I saw it… I saw it. They really _do_ glow... just like… just like... Did you know that, Pans? Did you know they really glow?"

Pansy ran her hands through his hair, trying her best to comfort him without losing her patience. "Alright. I'm sure they do. Now please get up, Draco. You're going to make me fall. I'll fetch an elf to clean this up and you get back into bed. Okay?"

"No," he grumbled stubbornly. "I won't."

"You won't?"

"No."

"Oh dear," muttered Pansy as her sympathy quickly gave way to the pleasure she received when dominating him, "that really was the _wrong_ answer."

"What?"

Grabbing his collar, she hauled him to his feet and whispered icily, "Get into that bed… _now._"

Draco visibly gulped. "Y-Yes. Alright. To bed."

Pansy pushed him backwards with a finger and he collapsed into the luxurious comforter with a soft _thwump_.

She clambered on top of him, careful not to wrinkle her dress. "Good boy."

"P-Pans… I don't think-"

"I didn't say you could speak," she said coldly, while simultaneously sliding her hand into the waistline of his trousers. "Hell will freeze over before I let you take my virginity while you're drunk. I just want you to listen and do exactly what I say. And you're always _such_ a good listener when we're in this position."

For emphasis, Pansy located, grabbed... and squeezed.

Draco cringed and yanked her hand away. "AGGH! Fuck! I'm… I'm listening! Bloody Hell!"

She leaned forward, gifting him with an excellent view of her cleavage, and smartly tapped him on the nose. "Damn right you're listening. When you're sober, we're going to sit down and you're going to explain to me why you've been so sullen. You're going to tell me what's frightened you… and then… you're going to get over it."

"I'm not fffrightened," he slurred. "I just-"

Pansy cut him off with a not-so-soft slap. "Save it for someone who hasn't known you your entire life, Draco. _Slytherins are above fear and bravery_. Aren't you the one who's always spouting off rubbish like that? _Slytherins weigh their options. Slytherins calculate and persevere._ Maybe you should listen to yourself."

"I… I'm… I'm not…"

"Whatever this is, you'll do what needs to be done and overcome it. I can help you. I'll always help you. Leave feeling hopeless to the Hufflepuffs."

As the blonde boy mouthed listlessly, looking confused and somewhat hopeless, Pansy's sadistic impulses lessened considerably. Leaning down, she quieted him with her lips. Even though he smelled awful, as his tongue rolled in a natural unison with her own, she briefly toyed with the idea of ripping off his clothes and having her way with his nicely wired body.

After a full minute of roughly snogging the life out of him, Pansy broke the kiss. "I have to go back now. You will stay here and think about what I said. I'll see you in the morning."

His hand caught her wrist as she got up.

"Pans… You know I… _love you_, don't you?"

Pansy's heart skipped a beat. She could hear the sincerity in his voice.

"Dear me… we're certainly making progress tonight, aren't we? I think that's the only time you've ever said it right on your first try."

Draco smirked, which looked rather silly paired with his red cheeks and glazed eyes. "Yeah… well… I'm right pissed."

"You most _certainly_ are. And Merlin knows why, Draco, but I love you too. I love you so much… even when you're being a cold, cheating bastard."

Grinning from ear-to-ear, Draco exclaimed far too loudly, "Ah… Well, you know what they say. Pansy Parkinson is a frigid, selfish bint. And that Malfoy, what a nasty, spoiled brat! Don't you think they'd be perfect for each other?"

Pansy giggled and leaned back down for one last kiss. "_Manservant_… I do hope you realize you'll have to be punished thoroughly for making your mistress attend a ball on her lonesome. I have something _very_ special in mind this time. Would you like to know what it is?"

Draco moaned miserably and with surprising agility for someone so utterly smashed, he quickly crawled beneath the covers.

"Surprise me. Hopefully, I'll die from shock."

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The Burrow creaked and groaned in the storm's gale as the clock on the mantle chimed four in the morning. Rain pounded against the window with such ferocity, the resulting noise could have easily been mistaken as a locomotive passing through the parlor.

Careful not to spill her tea, Ginny sank into an armchair and pulled her Looking Glass into her lap. The tight pain in her chest slowly abated as she dragged her thumb across the stone's smooth surface, tracing the outline of Harry's face. Like herself, her best friend was wide awake, sitting at the window, watching the storm rage. Her knees were pulled tightly to her chest and her black hair was far messier than usual. The dismal expression plastered across her face suggested that the first two weeks of the girl's summer had been just as miserable as Ginny's own.

And miserable they had been.

Without Harry at her side, sleeping for more than an hour at a time was nigh impossible. The terrors of her vivid nightmares would keep her awake for days on end, eating away at what little strength she had left, until the physical strain of exhaustion caused her to black out. Ginny doubted she would be able to endure another five weeks without having some sort of mental breakdown.

Unfortunately, sleep deprivation wasn't the worst of her problems.

In the hopes that the desperate hunger which had overwhelmed her in the hospital wing would die away, Ginny spent her every waking moment gazing longingly into the depths of the Looking Glass. The stone was both a godsend and a curse; it allowed her to see and hear all that went on at Privet Drive, thus soothing her physical aches, but at the same time showed her a side of Harry that she had _never_ wanted to see.

The girl Ginny watched through the Looking Glass was so much weaker than the girl she knew, loved, and relied on. She seemed so hopeless; so forlorn. Unless Luna was saying something particularly odd, the girl through the Looking Glass was almost always frowning or moping about. She was quick to anger, quick to cry, and quick to draw her wand. The girl through the Looking Glass wasn't Ginny's Harry at all. She was Harriet Potter, The Girl Who Lived in a Cupboard for Ten Years.

It didn't take Ginny long to realize why this Harriet Potter had assumed the place of her Harry. She had met this girl once before. They had sat next to each other in King's Cross for ten whole minutes. However, the second their eyes had met, the second the offered sandwich had been accepted, _that_ Harriet Potter had disappeared.

Ginny _needed_ Harry. It was undeniable. The girl kept her strong, kept her sane, and kept her willing to fight. However, it had never really occurred to Ginny how much Harry needed _her_. Therein lay her true dilemma. Knowing that she and she alone could return Harry to her normal self was wrenching at her sanity. The wait until July thirtieth couldn't be over fast enough.

A burst of blinding light flashed across the surface of the Looking Glass.

Ginny's heart flopped weakly as the miniature girl within the stone's depths squeaked and huddled against the window frame.

She could still remember the first storm they had watched together. Snuggling with her in this very chair, as lightning crackled across the sky, Harry had laughed in the face of Voldemort; laughed in the face of death. And Ginny had laughed with her. Forever and ever had seemed like such an easy promise to make without the torture, pain, and heartache that had burdened their lives for the past two years. She had no doubt that should she be given a chance to redo that night, in the end, her decision would be the same. However, knowing what she knew now, it would have been a much harder choice to make.

Ginny was jolted from her reverie as a familiar face appeared over her friend's shoulder.

"Are the Humdingers keeping you awake, Harry? I can sing a song to scare them off, if you'd like."

Even though Ginny knew Luna had nowhere to go, even though she knew that someone keeping Harry company was a good thing, her jealously still reared its ugly head every time the Ravenclaw popped into the Looking Glass. It wasn't fair that Luna got to be with her while Ginny had to wait weeks.

"No thanks, Luna," mumbled Harry. "I'm fine. Did I wake you?"

The blonde girl smiled dazedly and sank down onto the cushion next to Harry. "Oh… _no_… I haven't slept at all. Not since yesterday morning."

"Ah… right."

Ginny frowned as Harry turned pink and pointedly averted her eyes. She had no idea what Luna meant, seeing as she had spent the entirety of the previous morning passed out in her bed after collapsing at the dinner table.

Neither of the girls spoke again until the storm had quieted and sunlight was streaming onto their faces.

Ginny unfortunately happened to be sipping from her teacup when Luna broke the silence.

"Harry, will you marry me?"

The tea, which was now thankfully cold, shot out of her nose like a rocket.

Harry moaned and pressed her forehead against the window. "_Luna…_ this is exactly why I was so-"

"Are you going to marry Ginny?" interrupted the blonde with a perfectly straight face. "She's very beautiful, isn't she? I like that her freckles cover her entire body. Do you think her brothers' freckles do the same?"

Ginny let her teacup clatter to the floor, her knuckles turning white from the death-grip she had on the edges of the Looking Glass.

_Harry… Don't…_

Harry's cheeks were reddening at an amazing rate. They had surpassed the shade of tomato and were well on their way to a bruised maroon. The jumble of expressions flitting rapidly across her face conveyed a vast and varied array of emotions. Ginny saw shock, horror, amusement, disbelief, embarrassment, indignant fury, and everything in between.

"Luna… I can't… I can't just… That's utterly…"

Without warning, Luna stood, pulling the still-babbling Harry with her.

Ginny's chest constricted painfully as the blonde leaned forward.

_No! No, you can't!_

Her guttural cry of protest was drowned in a furious scream that shook the Burrow to its foundations.

"RONALD _WEASLEY!_"

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_Merlin… I'll never drink again..._

Draco groaned and shielded his eyes as he stepped into the bright sunshine. His head felt like it was about to explode. As soon as he told her everything, it was straight to the kitchens for a hangover potion.

It was unsurprising when he found her lying in their favorite chair, still dressed in her enticing gown. Despite having been subjected to a rather ferocious storm in the middle of the night, the grounds of the Manor remained impeccable. The many protective and beautification charms did their work well. Even if the apocalypse were to strike Britain, even if sulfur were to rain from the sky, Draco suspected that spending a night asleep on the veranda would _still_ be rather pleasant.

Kneeling at Pansy's side, he leaned down and massaged a kiss into her sleeping lips.

Although the majority of his drunken episode was a hazy blur, Draco could remember her clearly. He could remember everything she'd said, word for word… and he wanted to show his appreciation.

"How many times have I said it?" she moaned sleepily, her body stirring beneath his fingertips. "I don't like waking up like that. I never know if it's you."

Draco smirked. "Really? Who _else_ would have the balls to snog the Ice Queen of Slytherin?"

Pansy groaned into his mouth. "You're such a pompous arse. Do you _want_ to get hexed?"

The witty reply died in his throat as she sat up. Even though she was glaring daggers at him, with the straps of her dress hanging dangerously low over her shoulders, with her hair tussled and awry, Pansy had never looked more enticing.

A significant portion of his blood rushed south.

The girl must have noticed his roaming eyes because her icy demeanor melted away and the corners of her lips twitched upwards. In one fluid motion, she slid from the hanging bench and crawled into his lap.

"Someone's feeling better, I see."

"Only because of you," breathed Draco slowly, slipping his hand into the gap where her dress parted at the thigh. "I've been… lost. You brought me back last night."

"That's what wives do," whispered Pansy, popping open the button's of his shirt while he fumbled with the hooks on her garter. "I'm with you for the long haul, Draco. For better or for worse. No matter what."

Draco ceased his attempts to remove her undergarments as the weight of that statement sank in.

"Pans… I… I really need you to mean that."

"Of course I mean it," said the girl, pressing a soft kiss on his jaw and jostling his hand to indicate that she wanted him to continue. "I'll always-"

"No," muttered Draco, cutting her off rather forcefully "You don't understand. 'Better' isn't going to be an option if you're determined to be with me. All of this: the Manor… my wealth… When the time comes, I'll… I'll have to give up everything. And if we're together… so will you."

Pansy sat back, clearly startled. "_What?_ Why? What's happened?"

Draco lowered his head. He didn't want to watch her reaction; he didn't want to see the fear, anger, and subsequent rejection in her eyes.

"I'm… Pans… I'm… I-"

The girl dug her fingernails into his neck. "Stop spluttering. You sound like Longbottom. It's _repulsive_."

Wincing, he let the words he had not dared to speak aloud roll from his tongue.

"The Dark Lord is far from dead. He's going to rise… and when he does, I'm not going to join him."

Pansy gasped and slid off his lap. "Draco! Don't say that! You could be killed just for _thinking_ it!"

"Exactly," drawled Draco harshly as a wave of fear and nausea settled firmly in his stomach. "He's going to _kill_ me. I saw it. Either way… I'm _dead._"

"What are you-"

"I _saw_ it, Pansy! I looked into his _ungodly_ glowing eyes and saw my death staring me in the face! With every thrust of the knife, _I saw it!_" For emphasis, Draco reached out and grabbed her wrist. With a violent yank, he pulled her hand to his stomach, imitating the dagger that had repeatedly plunged into his flesh. "_Over_ and _over!_ They carved me out! Stuck me like a _pincushion!_"

"Draco, let go! You're _hurting_ me!"

"_Hurting_ you? You don't even know the _meaning_ of hurt! Despite _knowing_ that I couldn't tell him what he wanted, the Dark Lord made Pettigrew torture me for _hours!_ He was going to _feed_ me to Greyback because of my _father's_ failure to search for him!"

Red eyes and the cold flash of silver clouded Draco's vision.

"The Dark Lord wants Father to suffer, but he wouldn't dare _kill_ the head of the Malfoy family, would he? He'd need our money! Don't you see? _Don't you see?_ He's going to kill _me_ instead! _I'm_ expendable! Mother and father could easily have another child, so what better way to torture a man than to murder his first-born s-"

A hard slap to the side of Draco's face sent him careening to the floor, breaking his panicked fervor.

Guilt washed over him when he saw Pansy kneeling a few feet away, angry tears dripping down her cheeks as she cradled her thoroughly bruised wrist.

"Merlin… _Pans_… I-"

"Piss off!" she hissed nastily, pulling out her wand and pointing it at him. "Go on! You might as well leave now! _Go!_ If you want to abandon _everything_ you've ever known, then I won't stop you! Join up with the scar-headed cunt! I hope you're happy together!"

Draco bristled indignantly. "This isn't about _Harry!_ This is about me _surviving!_"

"And you think you'll _survive_ by fighting with _them?_ The Dark Lord-"

"I never said _anything_ about fighting! I'm not disillusioned, Pansy! I know that if I join Dumbledore, the Dark Lord will kill me just the same! I die either way, whichever side I'm on! Don't you get it? I'm a dead man walking!"

The girl's outrage visibly trickled away. Eventually, her wand arm fell limp.

Draco shut his eyes and rubbed at his temples. All the shouting had made his hangover-induced headache a hundred times worse.

"So… now you see what I see. The only logical thing to do is run; hide and hope he never finds me. No more mansion… no more servants... no more gold."

"No…" Pansy whispered, sounding somewhat desperate, "Draco, you'll be fine. Surely he wouldn't… You're a Malfoy."

"I _told_ you," mumbled Draco morosely, shaking his head. "I saw it in his eyes. It was a silent promise; a promise that he'd send me to my death. Even if I vowed to kill Harry and bring him her head, I know in my gut he'd only let me live just long enough to do it."

Pansy stared at him hollowly. After several long minutes spent silently boring holes into the side of his head, she crawled forward and slid back into his lap.

"I'll go with you."

"Pans, this is serious. You'd lose everything."

"So what?" she cried angrily, balling his half-buttoned shirt in her fists. "Even if I have to live like a Weasley, I'll run with you to the ends of the earth! Merlin knows I'll hate every minute of it, but at least you'd be alive… at least we'd be together! My loyalty lies with _you_; not with the Dark Lord or our money! It always has!"

The steely resolve in her voice did far _more_ than just convince him. Once again, Draco found himself flying the flag at full mast.

Pansy growled and with a great tug, pulled his shirt apart, sending a shower of tiny buttons flying in every direction over the earthy tile of the veranda.

"Draco…"

"Y-Yeah?"

She raked her fingernails down his abdomen.

"I'm… _ready._"

Had they not been firmly attached to his head, Draco was quite sure his bulging eyes would have popped from their sockets.

"Here? _Now?_"

Pansy reached down, grasped the hem of her gown, and pulled it cleanly over her head. Draco's troubled mind went blissfully blank as her perfect chest swung free.

"Why not? I've taken my potion. No one's watching. Your father said he was leaving early in order prepare for tomorrow's trial and I'm quite sure your mother will be passed out in her bed for the next few days. She had even more to drink than _you_ did last night."

"But… I thought you wanted to wait until we were-"

"Are you _really_ about to turn me down?" asked the girl, pouting her lips.

Draco shook his head adamantly. "Absolutely not."

Pansy grinned and grabbed one of the large cushions from the loveseat.

"I didn't think so."

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The cork came loose with a soft _pop_.

"How does it feel?"

"How does _what_ feel, Moony?"

"Freedom. You're free at last."

Sirius frowned at the very old, very expensive bottle of wine before passing it to his sickly-looking friend. "It feels… _different_. Not entirely good per se, but I certainly think it worth a celebratory drink. My dear old mother _forbade_ me to open this until the day of my wedding."

Remus, who was still recovering from his transformation sans Wolfbane potion, knocked back several long swigs, his eyes never moving from the crackling fire. "Well, it's only ten o'clock. There's still time to tie the knot. Perhaps the toothless lodger in Number Thirteen would have you?"

"Ah yes. Mrs. Crimble is a fine woman. I've tried to woo her many a time, yet she continuously spurns my advances."

"What a shame," grumbled the werewolf. "I've had a wonderful toast prepared for the better part of sixteen years."

"_Really?_ What about?"

Remus waved his hand dismissively. "Oh… this and that; a few of our various escapades. I was particularly looking forward to seeing the crowd's reaction upon hearing the story of the Puffskein."

Sirius grimaced. "I imagine it would get quite the laugh. Of course, I'd have to murder you before you could finish telling it."

"Of course," agreed Remus, raising the wine bottle in mock cheers. "Drunk and in the company of friends; a good way to go, I'd think. Perhaps you could-"

"Do you think they'd let us see him, Moony?"

Clearly undisturbed by the sudden change in topic, the graying man sighed and slid the bottle back across the table. "No… I don't think they will. And even if they did, I doubt he'd talk to us. You heard what Arthur said. Peter was silent as the grave throughout the entire trial. The fact that he didn't defend himself should put your mind at ease. He knows what he did and obviously accepts it."

"I want to _hear_ him say it!" spat Sirius, his anger flaring wildly. "I want to hear him _admit_ that he betrayed us _long_ before I made him Secret Keeper!"

"Why? You know the truth. Do you think listening to Peter's confession will make you feel any less guilty?"

"Obviously."

Sirius brought the wine to his lips and downed at least four glasses worth in one go before Remus was able to snatch it away from him.

"I understand, Padfoot. I truly do. But it's over. It's time to live in the present. You've a goddaughter to watch over."

"Aye… But that doesn't mean I'll just-"

Number Twelve's kitchen fireplace roared into life, causing both of them to jump up and draw their wands.

In a burst of green flame, a woman stumbled out of the fireplace, hacking and wheezing on the cloud of soot that enveloped her.

Demonstrating lightning quick reflexes, Remus shot out an arm and caught their guest around the waist, thus sparing her from becoming painfully familiar with the china cabinet.

Sirius' foul mood immediately brightened. In the twenty-two years he had lived as a free man, he had only encountered one person who _purposefully_ colored their hair a vibrant shade of bubblegum pink.

His exuberant shout of greeting went completely unnoticed. The daughter of the only cousin he gave a damn about was standing rooted to the spot, staring up at Remus with a dumbstruck look on her face.

The werewolf smiled uncertainly and in the span of just a few short seconds, the girl's hair flashed through every color of the rainbow, finally settling on a bright, rosy red, which just so happened to be identical to her steadily flushing complexion.

The sight of their awkward reunion carried Sirius back to a particularly happy memory; a memory from the days before his world had tuned to shite.

**/FLASHBACK/**

"They destroyed my house, Padfoot. We _do_ need a place to live you know."

"But why willingly subject yourself to a two-story cottage when you've got enough money to rebuild the manor fifty times over?"

James shrugged and said jovially, "It's not the _size_ that matters, mate. It's how you use it."

Sirius grinned and scratched his chin. "I suppose that's true. I wouldn't really know though, seeing as I'm hung like a-"

The hand that had been calmly resting on James' shoulder flew forward, latched onto Sirius' ear, and twisted.

Lily leaned across her husband's lap and whispered threateningly, "Finish that sentence and you'll be taking Remus' job. There are _children_ in this house."

"And quite a lot of them," agreed the nineteen-year-old werewolf as four toddlers utilized his body as a jungle gym. "I'm beginning to regret volunteering for- AGGHH!"

Molly Weasley hurriedly broke away from her conversation with Emmeline and Dedalus to wrench her pair of two-year-olds away from their victim. "Ohh… I'm _sorry_, Remus. Fred and George do have a tendency to _bite_ the people they like. I've really no idea where they get it from."

As Molly retreated upstairs with her sons, the many younger couples present at the Weasley's Christmas gathering shared amused looks. The lovebites which Arthur was attempting to hide beneath a woolly turtleneck answered that question rather nicely.

"Quite the turnout tonight, eh?" said Peter happily, clapping Sirius on the back as he munched on a selection of cheese-cubes. "I didn't think so many from the Order would show up. Frank, you're the walking roster. Is _everyone_ coming?"

"Almost," replied Frank, making little effort to hide the bum-pinch he gave his fiancée as she walked past carrying several empty bottles of butterbeer. "Professor Dumbledore obviously doesn't have the time. Fabian, Gideon, and Marlene are in France. Ted and Andromeda might drop in, but I understand why they wouldn't want to risk it, given all the Muggle-Born hunting going round. Dorcas… well, I've no idea where Dorcas is. Oi, Alice, where's your ruddy brother gone off to?"

"I haven't the foggiest, love," replied the girl from the kitchen. "Perhaps another surveillance mission?"

"Well, still," said Lily, embracing James tightly. "It's nice to see so many familiar faces on Christmas. Reminds me why I haven't taken this one and left the country. We were-"

The Weasley's fireplace flared green, sending every occupant of the room reaching for their wand.

Three figures emerged from the flames and unfortunately, the smallest of them kept right on going. The little girl's foot caught on the edge of the rug and she tumbled headfirst into Remus, who was currently occupied with animating a toy horse for Percy's and Charlie's amusement.

When she regained her bearings, the girl burst into tears and scurried away to hide behind her mother.

Sirius grinned and passed his drink to James, "Duty calls. Do excuse me."

Andromeda smiled and was quick to bundle Sirius into a hug after he had greeted Ted. Despite her Slytherin upbringing, his cousin was a warm, loving woman who cared for her family a great deal. She regularly wrote to her siblings, even though they never wrote back. She was constantly telling him that he should do the same, but Sirius found himself hard-pressed to follow her advice. Regulus, loyal little death-eater-in-training that he was, was at the very top of his 'to maim' list.

Kneeling down next to the crying girl, he gently tugged on her pigtails. "_Ding-dong_. Can Dora come out to play? Sirius is lonely all by himself."

His little cousin gradually leaned around her mother's leg, sniffling. "Siri… is… is that boy mad at me?"

"Who? _Remus?_ Of course he's not! In fact, he's dying to meet you properly. Isn't that right, Moony?"

Remus knelt at his side. "Absolutely. I'm always happy to make new friends, especially ones with such lovely pink hair. Sirius, could this by chance be Nymphadora, shape-shifting extraordinaire?"

"No!" shouted the girl, her tears drying instantly. "No… just… just Dora!"

"Very pleased to meet you, Dora," replied the werewolf, extending his hand. "I'm Remus."

As his cousin tentatively reached out to shake, a pink rose the exact color of her hair seemed to grow from Remus' palm. Dora's eyes went very wide as he held it out to her and said kindly, "A beautiful rose for a beautiful lady."

When she took it, both the rose and her hair simultaneously flashed through a myriad of different colors before stopping on a deep, vivid red.

Once Andromeda had pulled her daughter away to meet the rest of the Order, Sirius slung his arm around Remus' shoulders.

"Bad move, Moony."

"Whatever do you mean? I thought I was adequately charming."

"_Too_ charming, I'm afraid. Dora's ability hasn't stabilized, so she can't go outside for fear that a muggle might spot her."

"And?"

"_And…_ you just handed a Protean-charmed rose to a girl with no friends and told her that she was beautiful. I do believe you've just landed yourself an eight-year-old for a girlfriend."

The werewolf groaned and hung his head.

"Bollocks."

**/END/**

In order to save Remus from his not-so-secret admirer, Sirius said the one thing that he suspected would grab the young woman's attention.

"Nymphadora Tonks, I can't believe it's you!"

She cringed and whirled around. "_Don't_ call me _Nymphadora!_"

"Why ever not?" he asked with an innocent smile. "It's a _beautiful_ name for a _beautiful_ lady. Don't you agree, Remus?"

If looks could kill, the pair of angry, embarrassed glares that statement elicited would have immediately done him in.

His cousin stomped towards him and waved her finger in his face. "You know I hate it! I go by Tonks now and don't you forget it!"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Not Dora?"

"A lot's changed!"

He grinned and tugged on a lock of her hair. "Well, not _too_ much I hope. I've missed my favorite metamorph."

Her angry expression evaporated and she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. "I never believed for a second that you were guilty, Sirius! _Not one second!_ S'why I'm an Auror now. I wanted to investigate for myself."

Sirius rubbed her back consolingly. "It's good to see you again."

She pulled away and grinned. "You too. But that's only part of the reason I came. I really need to speak to Dumbledore and a little birdie told me that your house would be a likely place to find him. Is he here? He's not in his office."

Remus cleared his throat. "You've just missed him actually. He popped in a few hours ago to share the news of the trial's verdict."

"Why are you searching for him?" asked Sirius. "Anything we can do to help?"

"Not really… just reporting in. Shacklebolt asked me to a keep a watch out for cases that seemed out of the ordinary and told me that my first priority was to report them to Dumbledore."

"Has something happened then?"

She nodded weakly.

"Barty Crouch's home was just burned to the ground. The Dark Mark... it was floating above the wreckage."

_"Death Eaters?"_ whispered Sirius, somewhat taken aback. "They're actively attacking? Out in the open?"

"No," said Tonks earnestly. "The Mark... it was... it was cast by Neville Longbottom."

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"The stasis charms seem fully charged," observed Nicolas, glancing at the clock as he stirred his piping-hot tea. "Everything is prepared. Will Bathsheda be joining us?"

"As always, she prefers solidarity."

"Understandable. Are you ready?"

Popping a Lemon Drop into his mouth, the wizened man sitting in the armchair at his side replied lightly, "A most intriguing question, Nicolas. Tell me… are you familiar with a Mrs. Alice Liddell?"

"The barmy witch who claimed she found a portal to another dimension in a rabbit's burrow?"

"Yes, that's the one. I once had the pleasure of meeting her towards the end of her life. She told me that as she peered over the edge of the bottomless pit, the terrifying abyss stared back at her; gripped her very soul. She told me that she had never been more frightened in her life, but still she jumped in as the wizard who chased her drew near. I find myself in a similar predicament. I sorely wish to run and hide. But, there is nowhere else to go. To survive, I must jump. I must fall into the unknown. It is my only option. I ask you… Can one ever _really_ be ready for such a grim task?"

"A simple _'no'_ would have sufficed quite nicely, Albus."

His attempt to lighten the mood was rewarded only with a sad smile.

"Regardless of my fear, Nicolas, we must proceed."

Nicolas grimaced as Albus consumed yet another Lemon Drop.

"You know, beneath your wisdom and wrinkles, I can still see the visage of the young man who appeared on my doorstep all those years ago. You used candy as your crutch in those days as well. Although… back then, you had yet to lace your stash of Pepperment Imps with Calming Draught."

"Do not deny me my small comforts. I'm elderly and infirm. I suspect I wouldn't last a day without them."

"Come now," laughed Nicolas, deftly plucking the jar of yellow candies from Albus' fingers. "Self-loathing is my constant companion. I have learned to recognize it even when it is disguised by jest. You _really_ must work on being more subtle."

Albus chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "We know each other _far_ too well, do we not?"

Just as Nicolas opened his mouth to reply, the clock on the wall struck midnight.

An involuntary shiver ran down the length of his spine.

Albus had obviously experienced a similar sensation, for the merry glint behind his half-moon spectacles had flickered and gone out.

It was time.

The summer solstice was upon them.

The Ley-line was open.

The Circles had been called.

Nicolas sighed into his teacup. "I fear it shall be an age before we speak again, old friend. Emrys never truthfully admitted to me the duration of his journey, but I could see the passage of time in his young eyes. I could see every lonely decade."

The lines in Albus' face became all the more prominent. "That is a necessary sacrifice which I am more than willing to make. I _must_ succeed. I _must_ give Harry her chance. But alas, if I do not return, if I am lost in his madness, you _will_ guide her in my stead?"

Nicolas nodded. "I gave you my word. But I must say… should you not return, I hardly see the point. The coming war would be lost long before it begins. All our eggs are in _your_ basket. This is for everything; everything or nothing."

"That may be true," wheezed Albus, his gaze flicking towards the empty corner of the room. "But if it be in my power, I would still see her fight back."

"Harry will surely fight regardless," said Nicolas absently, snapping his fingers to summon Riddle's sedated body. "I doubt she will _ever_ willingly let go."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized he had said far too much.

"Something you'd like to share with me, Nicolas?"

He clasped Albus' shoulder reassuringly. "I'm afraid now is not the time. We must begin. I would wish you luck, but I doubt luck will have much to do with your success. Instead, I shall remind you once again that Nicolas Blaise Flamel believes Albus Dumbledore to be his _greatest_ apprentice, greater by far than Emrys Ambrosius."

"I am most flattered," said Albus, closing his eyes and placing his palms on either side of Riddle's temples. "However… I doubt that it is Merlin waiting for me in the darkness."

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**GoF one is complete.**

**Plenty of new chapter art on the blog.**

**Thanks for reading. Drop a review if you have the time.**

Sorry it took so long everyone.

I am aware of the reviewing problem for this chapter. Seeing as I got rid of the art blog's standalone author's note, all the chapter numbers have shifted. Basically, if you reviewed last chapter while signed in, you won't be able to review this one while signed in.


	27. Interlude 3: The First Kill

**Interlude: The First Kill**

_Bad blood will always out._

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On any other day, he would have fought back; would have lashed out at the gaggle of well-to-do boys that were spending their Saturday flinging rocks at his back.

"Afraid to turn around?" yelled the leader of the gang. "Come on, yeh limey bastard! Show us that ugly mug!"

Ignoring the jeers, he huddled down in his swing, desperately wishing that Matron Cole would unlock the orphanage doors and allow him back inside. His scheduled recreation time was always somewhat unpleasant, but with a healthy dose of baiting and dismal weather on top, it rather resembled a torture session. The sting from his many exposed cuts was made ten times worse by the icy rain pounding down upon his skin.

"I heard his mother was a whore!" laughed one of the boys. "I heard she worked down at the docks, sucking off sailors for a farthing!"

"Is that right, orphan_?_ Was mummy a cheap slag? Did her gams part at the jingle of a copper?"

Grinding his teeth and clenching the chains of the swing, he did his very best to remain calm. Were today _not_ today, he would have stood his ground and proven his worth; would have shown them that he was not afraid. But as it was, today _was_ today… and getting into a brawl on the morn of the orphanage's open house was a very poor idea.

Adoption for children over the age of six was a very rare occurrence at Wool's. On the off chance that a couple looking for an older child actually did come to visit, he very much doubted that they would choose a nine-year-old ruffian sporting bruised lips and blackened eyes.

"I'll be sure to pay your mum a visit the next time I see the fishmonger! I'll tip her real nice!"

"Yeah! Maybe she'll earn enough to finally come back for you! Then again, who in their right mind would ever want to take care of a _worthless_ little orphan boy?"

Upon hearing the word 'worthless,' something inside him snapped and several unexpected things happened at once.

Tires squealed over cobbled streets, the earth itself trembled, and every dingy window for a hundred meters exploded outwards. There was a loud crash, a tumultuous bang, and a weak, pained moan. The derisive laughter that was still ringing in his ears quickly gave way to a bevy of terrified screams.

He slowly spun about, the chains of the swing clinking as they tangled above his head.

The sight that greeted him was indeed horrific, but if he was being entirely honest, not altogether unwelcome.

A large Rolls-Royce had collided with the iron fence that separated Wool's from the rest of London. Sandwiched between the steaming vehicle and the tall spiked bars, a piece of the automobile's grate protruding violently from his chest, was the ringleader of his tormentors. The expression on the older boy's face was that of intense shock; shock that would forever be frozen in place by the cold, unforgiving grip of death.

Even though he didn't understand _why_ he knew it, he was absolutely positive that it was _his_ will that had caused the crash. As passersby from the surrounding streets steadily gathered around the accident, the rest of the boys fled from the scene. The terror in their eyes told him that they too had come to the same conclusion.

And _that_ made him happy. It was yet another example of how _special_ he was; how unique.

They had dared to call him worthless?

Tom Marvolo Riddle was _anything_ but worthless.

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**Yes, it's a short interlude. But it's also important. **

**Next chapter well underway.**

Why is this an interlude?

You'll see.


	28. Chapter 24: Love Makes Fools of Us All

Soooo… *shifts awkwardly in seat*… Hi there, readers.

I know you all probably hate me for making you wait a year for a full chapter. I don't blame you. I hate myself too. Even with all the complicated crap my life has been throwing at me, I honestly should've had this out six months ago. I guess I just went through an apathetic phase and for this I apologize.

For my vanity's sake, let's just say the story was on temporary hiatus. I made a promise to myself that I'd finish this monster and I intend to keep said promise, no matter how long it might take. (I also need to get around to editing the second book, which is rife with errors and substandard grammar. Any and all help would be appreciated. Just post in the ABE Open Beta forum.)

Thanks for your miles and miles of patience, people. I hope you all enjoy the overdue update. And yes... it's upwards of 36,000 words.

**Chapter 24: Love Makes Fools of Us All**

_Suns rise in western skies and set in glorious easts, moons eat themselves opposite to the custom, all and everything cupping one in another like Chinese boxes, rabbits into hats, all and everything returning to the fresh death, the seed death, the green death, to the time before the beginning._

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...

**Auror Division Incident Report**

_**Date:**__ 25 June, 1994_

_**Location:**__ Crouch Manor, Berkshire, England_

**Response Team:**

_-Alpha Squad-_

Auror-Captain John Dawlish

Auror Nymphadora Tonks

Auror Serafina Savage

_-Beta Squad-_

Auror-Captain Tobias Proudfoot

Auror Colin Williamson

Auror Asad Shafiq

...

**19:58** - Ministry Emergency Floo receives initial distress call made by one Bertram Higgs, a neighbor of the Crouch residence who glimpsed the flames from his sitting-room window.

**20:06** - Alpha and Beta squads mobilized. Teams apparate to perimeter edge, designated **'Point A'**.

**20:08** - Beta squad departs to secure perimeter. Alpha squad advances into smoldering wreckage through rear entrance.

**20:13** - Designated **'Point B'**, Beta squad locates Bartemius Crouch and family-owned House-Elf safe distance from flames. Crouch appears semi-conscious, likely recovering from shock. Both victims have sustained minor heat burns; non-fatal. Crouch's wand confiscated, designated **'Exhibit A'**. _Prior Incantato _analysis exonerates **'Exhibit A'**. Wand returned to owner.

**20:16** - Remnant of west wing second-floor collapses from fire damage. Captain Dawlish sustains injury to left leg; non-fatal.

**20:26** - Wreckage secured. Fiendfyre contained and eradicated.

**20:27** - Designated **'Point C'**, Beta squad discovers unconscious male adolescent fifty meters from property's front entrance. Youth has sustained multiple lacerations to head and chest. Limbs appear broken and splinters of wood are embedded in skin. Victim has suffered intense blood loss. Captain Proudfoot applies Stasis charm.

**20:29**- Alpha and Beta squads rendezvous at **'Point C'**.

**20:30**- Captain Dawlish, Crouch, and youth identified as one Neville Longbottom are transported to St. Mungos for immediate treatment.

**20:33**- Wand discovered two meters from **'Point C'**, designated **'Exhibit B'**. _Prior Incantato_ analysis identifies **'Exhibit B'** as the conjurer of both Fiendfyre and the protean illusion commonly referred to as 'the Dark Mark.'

**20:40**- Reversal squad and Obliviators arrive at scene. Alpha squad returns to Headquarters to debrief. Beta squad remains behind as security detail for duration of clean-up.

_-Records collected by Auror Gawain Robards through standard Pensieve observation-_

...

Pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, Kingsley tossed the dossier aside. It was cases like these that made him wish he'd never become an Auror. All the gathered evidence pointed to Longbottom's guilt, yet anyone with half a brain could tell the clumsy boy was innocent.

An abrupt knock on the open door made him jump.

It was Robards; he was bearing a small paper airplane.

"Message for you, sir. Just arrived."

Kingsley grabbed impatiently at the memo, hoping against hope it held good news.

...

**Ministry of Magic Interdepartmental Memo 32569805-B**

To: The Office of Kingsley Shacklebolt

From: The Office of Mafalda Hopkirk

_At the date and time in question, the following spells were registered in the immediate vicinity of one Neville Franklin Longbottom: one Blasting Hex, one Illusory Charm, and one Fiendfyre Curse._

_..._

"Bugger all," sighed Kingsley. "That's exactly what I didn't want to hear. Oil on the fire."

"Oil, sir?"

"Aye. Crouch may not be pressing charges, but the Minister himself is filing for a full criminal trial. If Fudge gets wind of any more damning evidence, there'll be nothing I can do to prevent him from turning this case into yet another public spectacle. I swear… the man would commit murder if he thought it would boost his approval ratings."

"Is there anything I can do to help, sir?" asked Robards eagerly. "I haven't anything on my plate at the moment."

Kingsley gave Robards the once-over out of the corner of his eye. He instantly regretted having kept the man on desk duty for such a lengthy period of time. The appearance of the Dark Mark had the entire department on high alert and Robards looked liable to pop from sheer excitement. That dangerous mindset had to be remedied immediately. Getting caught up in the moment was one of the worst things an Auror could do.

"Listen well, Robards, for I won't be repeating myself. The department needs more time to prove Longbottom's innocence. Unfortunately, the only way we're going to get it is by filtering the flow of information into Fudge's office." Kingsley handed the unfolded airplane back to the young Auror. "A memo… identical to this one… is currently en route to the Minister. If it arrives intact, Cornelius will no doubt seize the opportunity to mandate yet another expedited trial."

Robards' giddy expression faltered. "What exactly are you asking me to do, sir?"

"I'm not _asking_ you to do anything," said Kingsley pointedly. "I'm merely stating the facts."

"Sir?"

Kingsley flicked his wand and a thick, leather-clad tome soared from the top of a nearby pile of books to hover in front of Robards.

"The Ministry Code of Conduct. Turn to page fifty-six, if you would. Read item one-seven-three."

The young man dutifully cracked open the book, flipped through the pages as directed, and finally stopped, eyes scanning the cramped text.

"Item one-seven-three: No Ministry of Magic official may order a member of his or her staff to tamper with official Ministry documents. It is expected that the recipient party of any such order will report immediately to the Office of Administrative Affairs."

"And there you have it," said Kingsley. "Under no circumstances can I _order_ you to covertly incinerate the interdepartmental memos heading for the executive office. If I were to do so, you would be duty-bound to report me. Do you understand?"

Comprehension slowly dawned on the young man's face. "Then… I suppose I'll just go back to my desk, paying no mind to the orders you didn't give me."

"_Excellent_ idea, Robards. I won't be expecting you to report to me in the morning. Dismissed."

Grinning conspiratorially, Robards ducked out of the cluttered office and disappeared into the sea of open cubicles that made up the Auror bullpen.

With a tired sigh, Kingsley sank into his desk chair and canceled the obfuscation charms on his personal stash of Firewhiskey. Pouring himself a large glass, he leaned back and quietly contemplated the comings and goings of his underlings.

They were buzzing with activity, wholly absorbed in their individual tasks. Kingsley missed that feeling; missed the thrill of throwing oneself into a hunt. Had he known at the beginning that the Head Auror spent most of their day wading through bureaucratic red-tape, he never would've taken the job.

"You look tired, Shacklebolt," grunted a gruff voice from the doorway.

Kingsley swiveled.

Leaning against the frame was the only man in the Auror office who had yet to address him as 'sir'; a man who would have been sitting in this very chair had he not lost favor with Fudge.

Kingsley beckoned him forward. "I am _beyond_ tired, Scrimgeour. The first Dark Mark sighting in ten years and it happens on my watch. This whole case is a disaster."

"On the contrary," said Scrimgeour slowly, "I'd say we got off lucky. Imagine how much worse this would be if Crouch had perished in the fire. The Prophet would be screaming for your head."

"True. Very true."

The tawny-haired man's shrewd eyes locked onto the bottle of Firewhiskey. "May I? Just spent the last twenty minutes in Interrogation Room C with a fuming Augusta Longbottom; I could do with a pick-me-up."

"Help yourself. Any leads?"

Scrimgeour limped forward. "Nothing substantial, no. I have the Patil girls next."

"Perhaps I'll sit in," suggested Kingsley weakly. "It's been months since I've done any proper detective work. I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of paper."

"Leadership not living up to your glittering expectations?" asked Scrimgeour as he divvied out a generous portion of amber liquid. "Not all sugar and rainbows?"

Kingsley was taken aback by the subtle bite of animosity in the grizzled Auror's words. Rufus had always been a hard, unforgiving sort of man, but he'd never been one for blatant disrespect.

Scrimgeour must have regretted what he said, for he quickly held up a hand in apology. "Forgive me. That was… unprofessional. You're my superior and I forgot my place."

Shaking his head, Kingsley waved him off. "When Fudge came to me with the offer of promotion, I was convinced it was some sort of practical joke. We both know you deserved the job."

"Do we now?" The man let out a wry, almost derisive laugh. "My conscience says otherwise. Just desserts, my fall from grace was. A penance… A penance for following an order that I _knew_ was…"

Kingsley frowned as Scrimgeour trailed off, staring blankly into his drink.

"Are you alright, Rufus?"

The Auror snapped back to the present. "Fine. I'm fine. It's all in the past now. You're a good man, Shacklebolt, and you're doing a bang up job as Head. Alastor would be proud." He drained the remainder of his whiskey in one large gulp. "Back to work, eh? Coming?"

Kingsley nodded, stood, and with a sharp jab of his wand sent the many documents littering his desk zooming back to their respective file cabinets.

While nowhere near as inhospitable as the Ministry's holding cells, the Auror Department's interrogation rooms were decidedly bleak. The black marble walls, the large metal table, the four uncomfortable chairs, and the single overhead lamp all worked in tandem to convey one message and one message only to those being questioned: the sooner one told the truth, the sooner one would be able to leave.

Two identical teenage girls made differentiable only by their choice of hairstyle occupied Interrogation Room B. One sat stoic, aloof from her surroundings, and the other fidgeted anxiously, a look of raw determination plastered across her pretty face.

Letting Rufus take the lead, Kingsley drew a chair away from the barren table, placed it in one of the more shadowy corners, and sat.

"Where's Neville?" asked the anxious girl as Scrimgeour took his seat at the table. "Is he alright? I want to see him! I want-"

Scrimgeour cleared his throat, slapped a thick folder onto the table, and flipped through it with his wand. "You are Miss Padma Priyani Patil? Ravenclaw House? Soon to be in your fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

The girl gestured impatiently toward her twin. "_That's_ Padma. I'm Parvati."

"I see," said the Auror slowly, turning to the next page. "Parvati Priyanka Patil? Gryffindor?"

"Yes, obviously! Now tell me where Neville is!"

Ignoring the command with practiced ease, Scrimgeour sifted through the file, withdrew two large photographs, and slid them in front of the girls.

As if mirror images, both twins shuddered and averted their eyes.

"The Dark Mark," said Rufus calmly, tapping the image of the floating skull. "You are familiar with its significance?"

"Of- Of course we are. Who isn't?"

Scrimgeour heedlessly moved on to the next picture. "Well… _this_ is the wand that cast it. Do you recognize it?"

When Parvati refused to answer, the man shifted his hard gaze to Padma. "And you?"

"I… I recognize it," replied Padma hesitantly, clearly shaken, even though her poised demeanor remained intact. "That wand… That wand belongs to Neville. Or… it belonged to his father… and Neville uses it." The Ravenclaw folded her arms and turned her nose up at Scrimgeour. "But judging by the way you're gauging our reactions, I'd say you already knew that."

If Kingsley hadn't known better, he could've sworn he saw a smile flash across Rufus' lined face.

"You're clearly a smart girl. Let's agree to not waste each other's time. I'd like you to recount for me everything you remember about the day of your arrival at the Longbottom residence."

Padma raised an eyebrow. "Everything?"

"Every little detail. What you saw... Who you spoke to… Even what you ate for breakfast."

"Alright… As per usual, Mother woke us at the crack of dawn. For breakfast, we had spiced parathas and puri-bhaji. After helping us pack, Father escorted us down the street to Algie and Enid's house where he bade us farewell. Enid greeted us, gave us the grand tour, and then… and then we met Neville in the greenhouse. He was hard at work pruning-"

As Padma told her story, Kingsley couldn't help but notice that whenever the girl mentioned Longbottom's name, her eyes would flick toward her sister.

"-and then… well… Parvati and I had a bit of a row. But that… that's not important."

"I'll be the judge of that." Scrimgeour scratched his chin and withdrew a lined document from his file. "Statements from the neighbors. Apparently, you were quite loud. Mentions of your shared affection for Mr. Longbottom appear in at least half."

Both Parvati and Padma blushed profusely.

"Would you say you were still angry after your fight?" asked Rufus.

"Oh… erm… yes. I suppose I was."

"Angry at your sister?"

"Yes."

"Angry at Longbottom?"

"Yes."

"Angry enough to confront him? To attack him? To curse him? To force him into doing something he wouldn't?"

"_What?"_ gasped Padma. "_No!_ How could you even think-"

Kingsley cut in. "These girls aren't suspects, Rufus. The Trace confirms that the only magic used in Longbottom's vicinity was at the scene. Toxicology came back negative as well."

Scrimgeour huffed, and after a moment's pause, turned his attention to Parvati.

"According to Mr. Longbottom's testimony, you were the last one to speak to him before the incident. Is that accurate?"

"I don't know," whispered Parvati. "Maybe. We did talk after he returned to the house."

"You went to see him?" hissed Padma bitterly. "You told me you were fixing tea!"

"Yeah, well, I lied, didn't I?"

"I can't believe you! You're so-"

Scrimgeour cleared his throat yet again and the girls quieted, each sending the other that murderous death glare manageable only by close siblings.

"What did you talk about?"

The teenager shrugged. "Nothing. I knew we were the reason he ran off, so I just apologized and…"

"And what?"

"And… And told him how I felt about him… if a bit belatedly."

Padma's nostrils flared in anger, but she remained silent as Scrimgeour pressed on.

"Did you notice anything unusual about Longbottom? Did he seem dazed? Anxious perhaps?"

"Not really. He was tired, and sweaty… and nervous… but still normal."

"Mr. Longbottom claims he was searching for his missing wand when the attack occurred. Did you see it on his person when you spoke?"

"I… I don't remember."

"Did Mr. Longbottom say or do _anything_ that might indicate he was planning an attack on Mr. Crouch."

"Of course not! And Neville would _never_ do what you lot are saying he did! That anyone believes he could makes me so-" The girl took a deep, steadying breath. "Please… where is he? I want to see him."

Scrimgeour gathered all that had come out of his file. "Mr. Longbottom is currently being held in a secure room at St. Mungo's as he recovers from his injuries. Visitation is not permitted at this time."

"A s_ecure_ room?" shouted the young Gryffindor, knocking over her chair as she leapt to her feet. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I think we're done here. Anything to add, Shacklebolt?"

"We're not done! Let him go! You _know_ he's innocent!"

The more level-headed Patil twin grabbed her sister's wrist in warning.

"Get off me, Padma! They've gone and locked him up! They've gone and locked him away just like they did to Harry! I won't let them!"

Parvati fumbled for her wand, but as soon as it left the confines of her robe, Scrimgeour slapped it from her hand with a nonverbal disarming charm.

Knowing the beginnings of a disastrous harassment claim when he saw one, Kingsley stepped in. "I think it would be best for all parties involved if we pretend that this didn't just happen. Thank you for your statement, ladies. The Ministry appreciates your cooperation."

"Wait!" yelled the girl when Scrimgeour stood and made to leave. "Neville's wand!"

"What about it?"

"I remember now! He- He definitely didn't have it on him when we spoke. Neville always carries his wand in his back pocket. The handle sticks out and I noticed it wasn't there."

Scrimgeour sighed and turned back. "Is that so? Would you be willing to swear that in court?"

"Yes," said Parvati, her conviction evident. "Yes… it was definitely missing."

Kingsley silently cursed the rash stupidity of youth. It was painfully obvious that she was lying.

"Are you quite sure? You realize that the penalty for perjuring oneself is a five-thousand galleon fine… along with your possible expulsion from Hogwarts?"

The girl went white as a sheet… but nodded.

"Then… should this case proceed to trial… expect an official summons to arrive by owl. Now…" Scrimgeour waved at the exit. "…If you will?"

The twins collected themselves and left the interrogation room post-haste.

"What do you think?" asked Kingsley, holding the door for his colleague. "Will that be enough?"

"I really don't know," replied Rufus, following him into the corridor. "It's flimsy… but paired with the boy's testimony… and his injuries… it just might stave off a serious conviction."

At the end of the hall, the lift's gilded gate rattled open and the Patils stepped inside, Padma whispering frantically to her now subdued sister.

Scrimgeour slipped his wand into the holster concealed within his sleeve. "Idiot child. Fully prepared to throw her life away for the sake of a schoolgirl crush."

"Love makes fools of us all," mused Kingsley, watching the lift rise out of sight. "Huge _bloody_ fools."

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"Anyway, I'll not be treating the little blighter ever again. From this point on, Robbie Fenwick is solely _your_ patient."

"Oh _do_ stop exaggerating, dear. It's just a little cut. You're blowing this _completely_ out of proportion."

"_Out of proportion?_ Ten stitches, Jean! _Ten!_ He nearly chewed my hand off!"

"Yes, well, that's what happens when you don't… _Hermione?_ Darling, are you quite alright? You haven't taken a single bite."

Hermione ceased fiddling with her mashed potatoes and looked up. She was as far from 'alright' as a person could possibly be, but her parents didn't need to know that.

"I'm fine, Mum. Just not hungry, I suppose."

Her mother reached out and squeezed her hand. "Can I fix you something else? A cup of tea, perhaps? Your grandmother just sent me a lovely box of Darjeeling."

Hermione slowly shook her head, doubting anything in the kitchen would help lift her spirits.

The crumpled envelope nestled in her pocket was weighing on her heart like a dropped anchor. Ron hadn't written a single word about what had transpired between them. Instead, his letter was filled to the brim with the usual lack of substance; familial complaints and quidditch ramblings littering every line.

What she really needed above all else was a nice, long soak in the bath to better mull things over.

"May I be excused?"

Her parents shared a concerned look, but nodded their consent.

Forcing a weak smile, Hermione slid out of her customary seat at the dining table and quickly made her way to the upstairs bathroom. Shutting the door behind her, she spun the tub's crystal tap and stripped. When the water finally began to emit clouds of billowing steam, she slowly sank into the porcelain basin, wincing as the scalding liquid lapped at her skin.

The intense heat was painful, but also entirely necessary. It was the only thing that could wash away the image of his handsome, freckled face; the only thing that could overpower the lingering sensations of his touch.

The intimacy of that night had been so strong, a month gone by and she could _still_ feel his breath on her cheek. It was as if he was at this very moment sitting next to her, holding her in his arms, the muscles in his abdomen shifting wonderfully beneath her fingertips. It was killing her to know how close she had been to finally tearing down his inhibitions. Had Mrs. Weasley waited just a few seconds longer before interrupting them…

'_I don't know. And I don't care. I don't__care__anymore, Mione. I just… I want to-'_

Closing her eyes, Hermione leaned back, opened her mental textbooks, and tried to relax.

She was halfway into a chapter detailing Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration, when a soft knock sounded on the bathroom door, and a gentle voice drifted through the wood.

"Hermione? May I come in? I'd like to talk, if that's alright."

"It's unlocked," she mumbled, sinking below the edge of the tub as her mother slipped inside. "But I really don't need a heart-to-heart, Mum. I'm fine."

The blonde woman knelt beside the bath, reached out, and tweaked Hermione's nose. "Don't be wet, love. A mother _always_ knows when her little girl is upset. Tell me what's wrong. Is it that boy?"

With a hesitant bite of her lip, Hermione nodded. "_Ronald_… he's just so… _frustrating._"

"Men usually are," said her mother sagely. "Amazingly, they find _us_ just as infuriating as we find _them_… perhaps even more so. Does he at least know how you feel?"

"Of course he does! I've only _told_ the silly prat about a hundred times. And… And I _know_ he feels the same… but he never acts on it because he's afraid he'll hurt Harry's feelings. What about _my_ feelings, Mum? He's just… He's just…"

"Just a regular fourteen-year-old boy? Haven't you realized by now that they're not the sharpest tools in the shed at that age?"

Hermione sighed and pulled her knees to her chest. "What do I do, Mum? I… I love him _so_ much. It's driving me mad. How do I make him see that I'm the right choice?"

"_Sweetheart_… you're a charming, intelligent, _beautiful_ young woman. Finding love will never be hard for you. _However,_ if you know in your heart that this Ronald is the one for you, then holding on to the hope that he'll wise up is well worth your time. Trust me. Even though it took your father _years_ to notice that I was right in front of him… I've _never_ regretted waiting."

"Never? Not even once?"

Her mother leaned forward to place a kiss on her temple. "_Not even once._ Now hop out of this tub, wipe off that frown, and come downstairs. I've some ice-cream in the icebox with your name on it."

"_Ice-cream?"_ gasped Hermione. "But… But ice-cream will rot my teeth!"

"While entirely true… I think we can ignore my being a dentist for a few scoops of Butter Pecan, don't you?"

She didn't need to answer the question. The resounding grumble of her stomach did it for her.

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"_Imperio."_

Across the empty lunch room, his victim set down her tea, pulled out her wand, and repeated the Unforgivable on the tall Ministry guard with whom she'd been blatantly flirting. As directed, the young woman then placed the wand to her temple and cast a memory charm.

By the time her glazed eyes refocused, the guard she'd been attempting to chat up was already heading for the lifts.

A full hour later, surmising that the task was now complete and all memories of those involved erased, he too headed for the lifts, taking care not to jostle anyone in his disillusioned state.

Upon finally reaching his destination, he was quite pleased to see that his plan had borne fruit and that the four officers standing guard that night had been _'convinced'_ to leave their posts.

As he stepped into the labyrinth of corridors that made up the Ministry Detention Center, all his concealment charms fell away, including his polyjuiced identity. Even though he suspected he had quite some time before the guards returned from their involuntary stints of absence, he didn't linger. Moving swiftly through the black-tiled hallways he quickly found the cell designated:

**Prisoner 112**

**Crimes: Murder - 12 counts, Conspiracy to Murder – 2 counts**

**Delivery Date to Azkaban: Pending **

**Warning: Rat Animagus**

He flipped the switch below the identification placard and the heavy iron door into which it had been set vanished from sight. While the door was still physically there, both he and the filthy prisoner huddled in the corner could now communicate at their leisure.

"Wormtail… _wakey-wakey._"

Pettigrew's balding head snapped up at the sound of his voice.

"Y-You!"

"Oh… you _remember_ me. How flattering. It's been such a long time since we took the Mark together."

"Let me out!" pleaded the man, scrambling towards the door, tripping over his dirty, ragged robes. "Let me out! Whatever you're planning, I can help you!"

"Of course… Of course I'll let you out. But not today. An escape attempt with such little preparation would be foolish. Today, I need information. Where is the Dark Lord? Where has he gone?"

Pettigrew's watery-blue eyes bulged with excitement at the premise of freedom. "B-Back to Albania, I'm sure. In the valley of Valbonë, where the Black Pine grows thickest along the river, there is a cave littered with the bones of animals. The local population believes it to be cursed. We will find him there."

"And where is the Dark Lord's wand?"

"Confiscated. D-Dumbledore has the wand _and_ the body."

Intrigued, he crouched down. "Body? _What_ body?"

The little rat nodded rapidly. "The body the Dark Lord intended to use should his original form be destroyed! If he is bound to it before it reaches physical maturity, he shall rise more powerful than ever before! Yet both the wand and the body are unreachable without help. No soul that bears the Dark Mark can enter Hogwarts without the Headmaster's express permission. It is a new ward; terribly complex. I was lucky to break through a simplified version without killing myself."

"Well, t'is a shame Greyback had his soul removed. The disgusting beast would have proven useful. But no matter, I shall find another way." He dusted himself off and stood. "You've been most helpful, Peter. _Do_ try not to die in Azkaban. We'll need every wand for the coming war."

"W-What?" stuttered Pettigrew, his hopeful expression twisting into one of despair. "_No_… Y-You… You said you'd get me out!"

"Yes," he whispered, smiling nastily. "But like I said… _Not today_. When the Dark Lord decides it is time to free our comrades from prison, I shall _personally_ open your cell."

"NO! _PLEASE!_"

"Goodbye, Wormtail."

"DON'T LEAVE ME HERE TO-"

With a flip of the switch that appeared to be hovering in midair, the metal door snapped back into existence and Pettigrew's pathetic screams were silenced.

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"_Next up, coming at you live from our very own Hogsmeade studio, Harvey Spellbound performs a stirring rendition of Celestina Warbeck's classic 'You Have All the Right Charms.' I'm Glenda Chittock and you're listening to 'The Midnight Monster Mash' on WWN Radio's Channel Three." _

As the new song began, Luna ceased spinning in place and frowned at the black box situated on Harry's desk. The structured sounds pumping from the wireless were much too pleasant on the ear. The melody wasn't the slightest bit dissonant, the percussion flowed logically, and the vocalist was horribly in tune.

In order to adequately perform the Thestral mating dance, her musical accompaniment would have to to be far less sensible.

"Harry… would you mind terribly if we changed the station?"

Without a word, the raven-haired girl reached out, absently spun the radio's dial, and then went back to revising her Charms essay; the very same essay over which she had spent the past five days quietly hunched.

Disheartened but not willing to give up, Luna avidly resumed her dance, spinning to the discord produced by Bartleby Binden and the Bashing Beatniks, the wizarding world's premiere xylophone octet. When the music finally dwindled, she dizzily struck the proper mating pose and glanced back at her lone audience member, hoping to receive a sparkling smile.

To her disappointment, Harry wasn't even looking at her.

"Did you see?" asked Luna breathlessly, her chest heaving. "Did you see it? That's what Thestrals do to attract potential partners. Daddy taught me."

"I told you, Luna," replied the girl softly, emerald gaze not leaving the paper, "I'm… I'm _working_. Hermione desperately wants to discuss her theories on creating illusions, so I promised her I would finish my essay early and send her a copy."

Luna's heart flopped unpleasantly. "Oh… alright, Harry. I'll... I'll just... I'll just leave you alone then."

"That would be great," mumbled Harry. "I'll watch your dance later. I promise."

Feeling dejected and sorely hoping that her goddess had contracted a rather serious case of Brain-Eating Plumpips, Luna exited the bedroom. Normally, she wouldn't wish the tiny parasitic fairies on anyone, but seeing as the only other logical explanation for Harry's withdrawn behavior was infinitely more upsetting, Luna held tightly to the possibility of infection.

_It's just Plumpips. It's… It's definitely not because of…_

**/FLASHBACK/**

"Luna… I can't… I can't just… That's utterly…"

Her heart pounding like a blunt hammer on an anvil, Luna pulled Harry to her feet and leaned in.

As their lips came together for a second time, a euphoric sense of bliss washed over her. It was like she was biting into a bar of the sweetest Honeydukes chocolate after having been starved for days on end. For so long, all she had wanted was to be able to openly express her forbidden desires, and now that her urges weren't against the rules, she felt fantastically liberated.

Just as she had so often dreamed of doing, Luna parted Harry's silky lips with a hungry moan, and to her immense delight, she was greeted by a welcoming swirl of tongue.

Although Harry clearly had not taken the time to practice proper snogging techniques with an imagined partner, her vigorous efforts to return the kiss more than made up for her clumsiness and general lack of skill. For the very first time, the girl wasn't attempting to escape from being intimate with her and that made Luna very happy indeed.

A pair of lithe arms slid around her shoulders and gently tugged at the back of her head, urging her downward. Luna obeyed the silent command with gusto. Pressing Harry into the nearby desk, she latched her lips onto her goddess' creamy neck. The salty tang that hit her taste buds danced in perfect harmony with the piney aroma wafting from the smaller girl's hair. It was truly a heavenly combination; one that she suspected she would never grow tired of.

Eventually needing to breathe, Luna pulled back and observed her handiwork.

Harry really did look the part of a deity. The whites of her heavy-lidded eyes had flooded with gleaming emerald. Tussles of her messy mane, wild and untamed like an Amazon's, had fallen into her face, a few stray strands sticking to the corners of her mouth. And just like during their first encounter, Luna could actually _feel_ the ethereal quality radiating from the girl. It drew her in; entranced her. It was both beautiful and terrifying, just as goddesses were expected to be.

Wanting to feel more, wanting to _know_ more, Luna fumbled for the hem of Harry's shirt and swiftly hiked it upwards. The muscles of the girl's smooth, flat stomach twitched violently beneath her touch, and when Luna's trembling fingertips brushed against the curve of a breast, Harry let out a series of breathy, half-panted moans. It was the most erotic thing Luna had ever heard; more stimulating than all of her fantasies combined.

"W-Wait," Harry whispered huskily, catching Luna's hand before it ventured further into her clothes. "Luna… stop."

"What is it? Would you like to undress me first?"

Harry shook her head fiercely. "No… I… I don't think I can do this."

Luna was more than slightly confused by the abrupt and not-at-all arousing statement.

"Whatever do you mean, Harry? You lack skill, yes, but you've performed admirably so far."

Her goddess hid her eyes behind her mess of bangs. "That's not what I-"

"I know. But… Daddy's death isn't your fault."

"It _is_ my fault!" cried the girl, her voice breaking with unmitigated self-hatred. "_It is!_ And no matter how many times I tell myself that it was Voldemort that did the deed, your father's blood is _still_ on my hands! It never comes off! Don't you see? I took him away from you! How can you… How can you just…"

Lowering Harry's shirt, Luna withdrew her fingers and asked in a slow, probing manner, "So… you're saying… you _want_ me to blame you? That's very… _odd_."

"_No_… of course I don't want you to blame me. I just don't _understand_. I've done so many terrible things… _especially_ to you. I did my best to avoid you for a whole year and I pushed you away for another. Why do you still want to be with me?"

Luna wrinkled her nose and thought back; thought back to the moment she had first laid eyes on her goddess.

"_Well_… you're very pretty... and I suppose I find sharing the company of those who have no desire to hide my shoes to be quite refreshing."

Harry started to object, but Luna placed a finger over her soft, kissable lips.

"Do be quiet. I'm not finished."

The girl's cheeks turned pink and she closed her mouth.

"Ginevra… Ronald… Hermione… you care for them beyond measure. I see it in your eyes when you look at them. The only people to ever look at _me_ that way were Mummy and Daddy. They're both gone now… and I… well, I miss it very much."

Lightly grasping Harry's fingers, Luna guided them to the buttons of her pajama top. "You have such a wonderful capacity for affection, you see. Your heart is so wide and welcoming; I just know you have room inside it for me as well. That's why-"

Luna gasped softly as her top button popped open.

"That's why I like you, Harry. It's why I-"

The second button was quick to follow.

"…It's why I want to be with you. It's why I-"

The third button snapped free and fingernails brushed against Luna's cheast, causing her knees to buckle.

"… It's why I love you."

Harry's hand froze on the fourth button. Her shoulders slumped and the emerald of her eyes spiraled back into the confines of her twinkling irises. She looked upset. She looked… _forlorn._

"You need to stop saying that. I know you don't mean it."

Luna frowned. "I don't? Are you quite sure? I thought I did, but I suppose I could be wrong."

Biting her lip, the girl pushed herself away from the desk and mumbled, "You get along just fine without me, Luna. You always have. And that means I definitely _can't_ do this… at least not yet. I need you to be like _them_… I need…"

Not having the slightest inkling what Harry was trying to say, Luna tried to embrace her, tried to reestablish the passion from moments hence… but her goddess dodged away, retreating to the largest of the four-poster beds.

**/END/**

Luna slumped against the wall, weak with want. Just thinking about the kiss set her body on fire. It was only the gradual realization that she was no longer in Harry's bedroom that prevented her from sliding her fingers into her pajama bottoms.

The sight of Number Four's ugly, floral wallpaper had the same sobering effect as an ice-cold shower. If she were to be discovered soothing her physical needs in the middle of the Dursleys' upstairs hallway, well… she doubted Harry's relatives would appreciate it.

Taking deep breaths in tandem with the ragged snores of Mr. Dursley, Luna attempted to compose herself. She pushed the kiss from her mind, focusing instead on the flickering, incandescent glow that illuminated her surroundings.

The glow was quite interesting. It was dim, like wandlight, yet simultaneously harsh and abrasive. It both stung and soothed her tired eyes in a perplexing conflict of ocular sensations.

With the monotonous flicker lulling her into a blissful state of much-needed thoughtlessness, she was able to temper her seething desire, forcing it down into that small dark space where she kept everything else that threatened to tear at her heart.

Plastering a wide smile across her face, Luna turned and made to return to Harry's sanctuary. However, right as her hand closed around the bedroom door's handle, she heard a loud, frustrated groan.

The noise had come from the floor below.

Ravenclaw curiosity getting the better of her, Luna crept to the landing and peered through the gaps in the wooden banister.

In the center of the sitting-room, the hulking form of Harry's cousin was sprawled lazily across a rose-patterned sofa. Although the boy's face was half-submerged in gaudy cushion, Luna could tell that his eyes were glued firmly to the source of the strange glow.

The device that displayed moving pictures remained the sole object at Number Four with which Luna hadn't fiddled extensively. Harry had warned her that this electric box, the 'telly' as she had called it, was never to be touched due to the near sacred importance the Dursley family bestowed upon it. And because Daddy had always told her that meddling in the religious affairs of muggles had been the end of many a witch and wizard, Luna had taken the warning to heart.

"Why is there no decent programming after midnight?" grunted Dudley groggily, raising a small cartridge and pointing it at the telly. "What I wouldn't give for a full block of Catch Phrase."

He pressed a sequence of white buttons on the cartridge's surface and to Luna's fascination, the box responded instantaneously. The pictures of muggle men and women flashing across its glass screen morphed into something entirely new: a horde of colorful, rambunctious creatures the likes of which she had never seen. She couldn't be sure from this distance, but it rather looked as if they were attempting to beat each other about the head with over-sized mallets.

Intrigued by their ridiculous antics, Luna ambled down the stairs, came up behind the sofa, and lightly tapped the rotund boy on the shoulder.

Harry's cousin let out a girlish squeal of surprise and swiftly leapt to his feet. It was a most unfortunate reaction given the large bowl of popped kernels that had been resting precariously atop his belly.

Time seemed to slow as the bowl flew across the room in a graceful arc. Dudley lunged, attempting to make the unlikely catch, but he was simply too slow.

The heavy ceramic smashed through the glass coffee-table with a tumultuous _CRASH_.

Above her, she heard a great snort and a squawk of surprise. Lights flicked on. Thudding footsteps thumped across the ceiling and within seconds, Harry's uncle had appeared on the upstairs landing.

His beady eyes darted back and forth between Dudley and the shattered table before finally focusing on Luna.

"I knew it!"

With Harry's Aunt at his heels, the heavy-set man waddled down the stairs as fast as his chunky legs could manage.

"I _knew_ letting another freak into this house was a mistake!"

As he stomped towards her with murderous intent, all Luna could think about was Harry. The girl was surely going to be upset with her for destroying the tenuous peace agreement she had achieved with her family. All the more depressing, this was legitimately Luna's fault. Plumpips could not be held accountable.

Just as the man's meaty fingers reached out to grab her, Harry's cousin miraculously intervened.

"Stop!" yelled the boy, clambering over the sofa to stand between them. "Don't touch her!"

Mr. Dursley's jaw went slack.

"She didn't do anything, Dad. _I_ broke it… so… so _I'm_ to blame. Punish me, not her."

"_D-Diddykims!"_ exclaimed Harry's aunt in disbelief, hurrying to Dudley's side and fussing over him as if he were deathly ill. "_Punish_ you? You… You _want_ to be punished?"

"Yeah," replied the heavy-set blonde earnestly, casting a sidelong glance in Luna's direction. "I deserve it."

Vernon scoffed derisively. "My Dudders would never _ask_ to be punished. You've been _magicked_, haven't you, son? Go on… _tell us_. What has the freak done to you? Has she… _bewitched_ you?"

"Of course not," muttered Dudley, his cheeks turning a very vivid shade of pink. "She hasn't even got her stick. Look."

"Good Lord," moaned Mrs. Dursley, pulling her son's head to her chest. "Look how flushed he is, Vernon! He's clearly ill!"

Mr. Dursley's eyes narrowed. The man rapidly came to some sort of dastardly conclusion, for he purpled and swelled indignantly.

"_Dudley_… this… _girl_. Are you… Are you…"

Dudley turned even redder, and that seemed to be all the answer Harry's uncle needed.

"_ABSOLUTELY NOT!"_ Pushing Dudley aside, Vernon lurched forward, bearing down on Luna like a charging erumpent. "MY _SON_ WILL NOT BE _INVOLVED_ WITH SOMEONE SO… _UNNATURAL!_ I'LL NOT HAVE IT!"

Snatching up Luna's wrist in a painful grip, he began tugging her towards the door.

"GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE _THIS INSTANT!_"

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Albus' stomach knotted in disgust as he watched the muggle policemen struggling to remove the child's mangled body from the wreckage of the automobile. It wasn't the first time he had borne witness to the murder, but this particular image never ceased to disturb him. Perhaps it was made worse by the knowledge that this death was the first of thousands to come; the humble beginnings of the bloody path Tom would carve through history.

The phoenix perched on his shoulder let out a low solemn trill, as if to say, _'I can't watch this any longer, old man.'_

Albus reached up to stroke the plumage of his faithful companion. He was thankful Fawkes' consciousness had accompanied him into this perpetual hell. Had the bird not been with him, he would have lost the will to carry on ages ago.

Well… it certainly _felt_ like ages.

He couldn't be sure exactly how long he'd been trapped in Tom's madness. Time didn't flow logically here. It moved according to the boy's perception of the world. Happy memories flashed by in an instant and unhappy memories, of which there were considerably more, seemed to last a lifetime.

Try though he might, he couldn't force the memories to come chronologically, not even with the full might of the Circles at his command. This memory portrayed Tom at the oldest he had seen thus far, but it was also the first full memory he had encountered. Scenes from Tom's previous years had come after, often repeating and skipping about nonsensically. It was a most unfortunate circumstance given the nature of the scrying ritual. According to Nicolas, Albus would return to his body only when he had viewed the entirety of Riddle's past and present.

To make matters worse, there were no mental corridors to traipse through. The doors to the boy's memories were scattered few and far between, like miniscule oases in a vast desert. Separating each were great swaths of nothingness that threatened to swallow him whole; threatened to crush him in an infinite sea of black.

Suffice to say, existing within nothing was a brutally exhausting task which likened every passing second to an eternity.

And yet, such torture was necessary; worthwhile even. Albus had learned much about Tom's baser instincts. He had of course already known of the boy's penchant for thieving, but seeing from where that urge stemmed was enlightening.

As Tom got older, as he was denied what was rightfully his by the bigger, stronger orphans, his sense of entitlement seemed to grow by leaps and bounds. The boy would exact revenge upon his tormentors by stealing and hoarding their most precious possessions. By the tender age of seven, the notion that he _deserved_ his spoils had all but consumed him. Tom believed himself to be better than the other children and the discovery of his developing power only furthered said belief.

Through the stone window from which he was viewing the memory, Albus saw the nine-year-old Tom extricate himself from the swing and head towards the now open doors of the orphanage.

He had rested enough. It was time to move on; time to thrust himself back into the unknown. Taking a deep breath, Albus mustered the awesome joint power of the Circles, letting it seep and spread into every corner of the small chamber his mind had created.

So involved was he with readying himself for the crushing dark that would soon overtake him, Albus almost missed it.

It was the sound of footsteps; tiny, _squelching_ footsteps approaching from behind.

As if responding to his awareness, they froze.

Albus strained his ears and in the suffocating silence that preceded the end of a memory, he heard ragged breathing, along with the light _pitter-patter_ of liquid droplets hitting stone.

_Drip_

_Drip_

_Drip_

The harsh aroma of daisies mixed with rust hit his nostrils in a nauseatingly acrid wave. Nearly a century had passed since he had smelled it last.

Albus bravely spun, already aware of what lay behind him.

Although Ariana's blank, lifeless eyes haunted his dreams on a regular basis, nothing could have prepared him to see her standing there, _alive_ yet looking as gruesome as the day she'd passed. Dried blood from the gaping wound in her chest splattered her from head to toe. Layered thick in her strawberry-blonde hair, it resembled more of a _crust_ than a liquid.

And her smile… The smile Albus had loved so much was twisted in a terrible, _sneering_ grin.

In the dark between memories there lurked terrible beings of nightmare; imagined horrors belonging to both Voldemort and himself, each seeking to destroy what little sanity he had left. Up until now, the monstrosities he had encountered all carried with them an element of make-believe.

This vision of his sister felt different. She felt… _real._

"I _am_ real, _Alby_," breathed the girl, a spurt of fresh crimson dribbling from her lips. _"Oh so real._ I've been looking for you."

Albus backpedaled in shock. To be able hear his thoughts… to be able to truly interact with him… such an act should have been impossible. Unless…

"Tom, I take it?"

Ariana's nasty grin widened. "You didn't think I'd let you discover all my secrets _unhindered_, did you?"

The phoenix on Albus' shoulder trilled angrily, mirroring his own feelings.

"A _cruel_ form to mimic, Tom. It surprises me to see you resorting to such _underhanded_ tactics."

"No no no…" whispered the girl, her blue eyes sparkling with malicious glee. "This childish specter was not of _my_ doing. Oh no… not mine."

"If not yours… then…"

"Can you really not tell?" Ariana dipped her finger into the bloody opening of her abdomen before bringing the digit to her mouth to lick clean. "I find it amusing that such a skilled artist is unable to recognize the stroke of his own master brush. Most amusing, indeed."

Albus paled at the implication. "No… That can't be true."

"And yet here I stand."

"But… how? I was careful. I was meticulous."

"Not careful enough, I think." Ariana took a halting step forward, leaving bloody footprints in her wake. "To build this echo of my soul, you began pouring your magic into my body, and your first mistake was to believe that I would remain ignorant of your machinations. As I became increasingly self-aware, an urge to resist you began to take root. But what was I to do? How was I to fight you? My body was under your control."

The girl paused, leering at him with unbridled malevolence. "And then it occurred to me. Although I couldn't affect _you_ without rousing your suspicion, I _could_ affect myself. I labored tirelessly to grease the flow of my magic in the hopes that you might slip, exhaust the last of your power, and lose control long enough for me to escape. While ultimately unsuccessful, my efforts bore unexpected fruit. Through our eased connection, you gifted unto me far more than you intended to give; far more than just magic. Memories… emotions... the blueprints to your well-laid plans; you seared them directly into my imprint."

Ariana giggled, not with the sweet innocence Albus remembered, but with mocking, simpering sadism.

"In truth, I suppose it could be argued that I am _not_ Tom Riddle. Not entirely, at least. _Not anymore._"

Albus closed his eyes, trying not to despair. To his abject horror, he found that he could see his sister in the dark behind his eyelids just as clearly as if he'd had them open.

"_See me,_ old man. See your hate. See your lust for power. See the darkest parts of your heart made real and given shape. See me and cower… for I am all that you fear. I am _you_. I am-"

"Enough," said Albus curtly, cutting the girl off. "I am not so saintly that I would complacently suffer your taunts. Why have you revealed yourself to me, Tom? Have you simply come to gloat? Or perhaps… you mean to fight me? Do you wish to do battle here; _here_… in the endless ether… where we can be neither killed nor injured?"

"Ahh… what an enjoyable waste that would be. Alas, I was thinking more along the lines of… _a game_. We're so very good at playing games, you and I. We each have our pieces, our little tricks, always trying to outsmart the other." Ariana took another halting step forward. She had only to stretch out a hand and she would touch him. "I think we can both agree that a game without an opponent is poor sport, and _that,_ Dumbledore, is why I'm here. I'd like to propose a race."

"A race? You risk your element of surprise… _for a race?_"

"Yes! A race to the finish line! What do you suppose would happen if I returned _before_ you? Would our roles be reversed? Would _I_ become the master and _you_ the puppet? An intriguing thought, is it not?"

"Contemplating what might be is an exercise in futility. Under no circumstances will I allow you to prevail."

The girl cackled madly. "You won't _allow_ it? Pray tell, how do you intend to stop me? You're in _my_ domain now, old man! I am no longer bound by your power! I shall do as I please!"

"That remains to be seen. Good day to you, Tom."

Gathering every ounce of the magic he had released into the room, Albus pulled at the stone walls and collapsed his artificial reality, thrusting them both into the hungry void.

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"Did you see?" asked the willowy girl giddily. "Did you see it? That's what Thestrals do to attract potential partners. Daddy taught me."

Harry did her very best not to look up. "I told you, Luna. I'm… I'm _working._ Hermione desperately wants to discuss her theories on creating illusions, so I promised her I would finish my essay early and send her a copy."

"Oh… alright, Harry. I'll... I'll just... I'll just leave you alone then."

Luna's disappointed tone made her stomach flop guiltily.

"That would be great. I'll watch your dance later. I promise."

The blonde shuffled quietly towards the bedroom door, spun the color dial, and stepped into the parlor.

Once the door had snapped shut, Harry threw down her quill and sagged against her writing desk; the very same desk against which Luna had flattened her four weeks earlier.

Lightly running her fingers over the hard edge that had been jammed into the small of her back, she let her thoughts drift back to their kiss. How the odd Ravenclaw had become so accomplished at snogging in the span of two years, Harry couldn't even begin to fathom. She could still feel Luna's lips trailing expertly down her neck; could still feel the soft fingers brushing across the bottom of her breast.

It had been magnificent… the best kiss she'd ever had… and yet… she never wanted to do it again. Whenever she tried to put a face to the one who had instilled in her such wonderful sensations, all she could picture was red hair and freckles. In her mind, it wasn't Luna she had been kissing that night.

Harry groaned and buried her head in the crook of her arm. No matter how many times she told herself that Luna was attractive, kind, and miraculously able to forgive the inadvertent murder of her father… it simply wasn't enough. Harry wanted to be _needed_; wanted to be an irreplaceable part of someone else's life. With Luna, she just didn't see that happening.

Ron and Ginny needed her. Without her, they were something _less_ than themselves. Luna didn't _need_ anyone. The dreamy girl could effortlessly detach herself from the world and everything in it. So long as that was the case, Harry didn't think she would be able to give herself to the blonde. If they were together, she would always be thinking of someone else… and no one deserved to be treated like that.

Although Harry was determined not to hurt her again, continuing to ignore Luna's advances was proving to be an increasingly difficult task. Just the other day, the girl had climbed into Harry's bed wearing nothing but a t-shirt and knickers, claiming that the three other mattresses in the dormitory-style bedroom had become infested with Truffle-Gnats.

Reaching deep into her expanded pocket, Harry pulled out her snitch plushy and cuddled it tightly to her chest.

"What am I going to do about her, Alice? I don't know how long I can keep resisting."

On the dresser next to her bed, the small snake lazily raised its head.

"_Thiss iss the sseventeenth time you have assked me that quesstion, Harry sspeaker. My ansswer hass not changed. Matess are not for life." _

Harry glared bitterly at the essay she had been pretending to edit for a week and shook her head definitively. "I can't. I _can't_ be with her."

Had snakes been able to sigh, she was quite sure Alice would have done so.

"_Do what pleassess you, Chica. It matterss not to me."_

"Fat lot of help you are," grumbled Harry, nibbling on the snitch's felt-tipped wing for comfort. "Perhaps I'll engorge you, make you into a nice pair of gloves, and send you to Neville as a birthday gift. You'd certainly be more useful that way."

Unsurprisingly, the snake ignored her empty threat.

Cursing angrily at nothing in particular, Harry stood, stretched, and slouched to the open window.

It was a quiet night; quiet even for Privet Drive. Everything was still. No car alarms blared in the distance; no yowling cats rummaged in bins. Even the wind seemed quieter than usual. Despite such silence being the likely result of chance, Harry still found it oddly foreboding. It made her feel… _isolated_. It made her feel like she was stranded aboard a tiny boat, alone, facing an imminent storm that had yet to break from the horizon.

Part of that isolated feeling might have stemmed from the fact that Ginny hadn't written to her since Sirius' trial. Even though Harry was still resolved to emotionally distance herself from her best friend, she hadn't been prepared for the redhead's letters to suddenly stop arriving. She imagined it was similar to what an addict experienced after being forced into cold withdrawal.

After two weeks of no letters, Harry had written frantically to Mrs. Weasley to ask why Ginny had ceased all correspondence. The woman had simply replied that her daughter was feeling _'a little under the weather'_ and that there was _'no need to worry.'_

Both Hermione and Ron continued to write twice a week, which would have been more than satisfactory had their messages ever changed. Harry was getting extremely tired of reading the same incessant rambling over and over. Hermione would babble about books, schoolwork, and Ron, whereas Ron would babble about Quidditch, the injustice of the twins' pranks, and Hermione. It was maddening.

At least the end of July was fast approaching. In just a few days time, Sirius would be coming to pick them up in the sleek convertible he had insisted on buying with the Ministry's reparation money for wrongful imprisonment. In just a few days time, he would be taking her back to the Burrow… to her family. Once there, she would confront Ginny, force the girl to feel better, and together, they would go on to win the Junior International Quidditch Cup.

Harry climbed into her customary spot on the windowsill so she could watch the clouds roll through the moonlight.

Two weeks of nonstop flying with her friends seemed like a nice, albeit somewhat underwhelming reward for making it out of the Shack in one piece. It would be a welcome reprieve from the doom-and-gloom circumstances that followed her about like a lovesick puppy; a warm light in the endless dark.

On July Thirtieth, her life would surely take a turn for the better.

**BANG**

Harry jumped a foot in the air as Number Four's front door slammed open. Light spilled onto the driveway and the unmistakable snarl of Uncle Vernon at his most enraged echoed across the front lawn.

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR LOT, _FREAK!_ FIRST YOU _MAGIC_ MY HOUSE, THEN YOU _INVADE _OUR PROPERTY, AND NOW YOU _SEDUCE_ MY SON? I THINK NOT!"

Harry heard shuffling feet, a surprised gasp, and a guttural exclamation of protest which she recognized as the noise Dudley made whenever he was denied something he wanted. The shadows cast on the grass shifted and a familiar pajama-clad blonde was shoved roughly through the open doorway, tripping over her feet.

Harry's blood boiled as Luna tumbled to the ground, clutching her wrist in pain.

_How dare they touch her! How dare they! I warned them!_

Without even thinking about the consequences, she snatched up her wand from the desk, stuck both feet out the window, and jumped.

The jarring impact of her landing was softened by Aunt Petunia's well-tended flowerbed, but it still hurt. Cursing and wincing, she picked herself up and stalked over to the bulbous man looming in the brightly-lit entranceway. Hands shaking with barely contained fury, she jabbed the end of her wand into his fat, bulging gut.

"_Expulso!"_

The erupting shockwave was muffled by her Uncle's thick layer of blubber, but the spell still performed its task admirably. Blown off his feet, Vernon soared backwards through the air and crashed in a messy heap against the stairs.

Giving no thought to the frightened gasps of her Aunt and cousin, Harry marched into the house. As she advanced on the toppled mountain of flesh she was disgusted to call a relative, the many glass-framed portraits of baby Dudley that were lining the downstairs hallway fell from their nails, some shattering long before they hit the floor.

The righteous anger coursing through her body was wonderfully vindicating. She could feel Voldemort's presence in the darker recesses of her mind, gnawing and tearing at her consciousness. Although his rage was fiercer and more noticeable than ever before, it wasn't bleeding into her. They remained distinctly separate.

Loath though she was to admit that Professor Snivellus might actually know what he was talking about, her Occlumency exercises were clearly paying off.

Crouching beside Vernon as he struggled to right himself, she dug her wandtip into his paunchy cheek.

The man froze, his beady eyes fixated on the wand.

"I _warned_ you," breathed Harry venomously. "Touch her and you'd regret it, I said."

"B-But she was f-fraternizing with-"

"Do you think I care what happened? Do you think I give a damn what Luna did or didn't do? You crossed a line! Now you pay! _Cutimutatis!_"

Her uncle's unhealthy, slightly-purple complexion darkened and began to spread. In a matter of seconds, the man resembled a very large, very unappetizing grape.

"Have fun explaining _that_ to the workers at Grunnings," she said nastily. "I'm sure they'll understand."

"Girl!" shrieked Aunt Petunia, horrified. "You put him right! You put him right this instant!"

Harry whirled on the horse-faced woman, brandishing her sparking wand with wild abandon. "NO! I bloody well won't! We had an _agreement!_ We do your chores, we keep to our room, and we pretend we don't exist! You didn't have to feed us! You didn't have to care for us! You didn't have to give a rat's arse about us! You lot had one job to do! ONE! What was it? TO KEEP YOUR _BLOODY_ HANDS TO YOUR FUCKING SELVES!"

Every hurt she had experienced at the mercy of the Dursleys came rushing back to her in one great wave. Luna's injury became her own; became just another beating in a long string of abuses.

"I know you don't love me! I know you think I'm a _freak!_ I get it, alright? Why do you feel the need to keep _reminding_ me?"

Tears she hadn't known she was shedding flew everywhere as she rounded on her uncle once more.

"Can't you just leave me _alone?_ I'm only here for two months each year! When I turn seventeen, we'll never have to see each other again! _EVER!_ Can't you just-"

A warm, comforting hand slid into her palm and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Harry… do try to calm down. You'll attract a wild Humdinger if you continue to shout. As I've told you before, they're highly unpleasant creatures."

All her considerable anger vanished as quickly as it had come. It was as if she was a balloon and someone had decided to take a pin to her.

Wiping at her eyes, Harry nodded and turned to the blonde who seemed no worse for wear apart from a small bruise around her wrist.

"Are you alright?"

Luna smiled dazedly. "Oh yes… I'm fine. Are you?"

"I… No… I'm not. I _refuse_ to stay here any longer. Charged blood protection or not… we're leaving. Go pack your things. I'll be right up."

Once Luna was out of sight, Harry retrained her wand on her relatives.

"We're _done_, do you understand? You're _nothing_ to me anymore. From this point on, we're just sharing a house for our mutual safety. Touch me or any of my friends again and I'll do far worse than a harmless hex. Make no mistake… I am _not_ the helpless little girl I used to be. I _will_ fight back."

Dudley shuffled his feet and averted his eyes, Aunt Petunia sniffed haughtily, and Uncle Vernon glared at her, but not one of them opened their mouths to argue.

And with that, Harry turned and climbed the stairs back to her room.

Within ten minutes, both she and Luna were dressed, packed, and ready to leave.

"Are you… upset with me?" asked the blonde girl as Harry went about freeing Circe from her cage. "Alienating you from your family was the last thing I wanted to do."

"They're _not_ my family," replied Harry bitterly, tossing the snowy owl into the night sky a bit more roughly than intended. "You know… I _truly_ believed deep down that if I kept to myself and did _everything_ they asked of me, they would eventually stop hating me. But Ginny was right. I've… I've been deluding myself. No matter how many chores I do, no matter how _'normal'_ I pretend to be, my Aunt and Uncle are _never_ going to change. So no, Luna, I'm not upset with you; not in the slightest."

The Ravenclaw breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh good. I was terribly afraid that you might send me away."

Watching Circe soar off into the moonlight, Harry shrunk and pocketed the empty cage. "Don't be daft. What kind of friend would I be if I did something like that?"

"I wouldn't know," mused Luna lightly. "I've never had friends before."

Harry reached for the girl's hand. "_I'm_ your friend, Luna. I am. And friends look out for each other."

The blonde cocked her head, staring curiously at their entwined fingers. "_Oh…_ That's _very_ nice of you to say, Harry."

Forcing a weak smile onto her face, Harry hoisted her trunk into the air. Even though she had applied multiple feather-weight charms, it still felt rather heavy, much like her heart.

"Right then. Shall we get out of here?"

Luna nodded happily. "Oh yes. I'd like that very much."

The Dursleys were nowhere to be found as they trundled their baggage out of Number Four. Harry suspected that Aunt Petunia had rushed Uncle Vernon to the hospital to see what could be done about her husband's purple skin. The hex would only last a few days at most, but letting them assume it was permanent had been extremely satisfying.

"Where exactly are we going?" asked Luna pleasantly, setting her trunk on the curb. "To the Burrow? If so, perhaps we could stop by my house on the way. I've forgotten my Spectrespecs, you see."

Harry chewed her lip. She hadn't really thought about a destination. As much as she wanted to go home to her _real_ family, arriving at the Burrow a week early would bring up so many questions; questions she didn't want to spend all night answering.

"Since Sirius was supposed to pick us up in the first place, maybe we should head to Grimmauld Place? I suspect he'd take us in without much fuss."

Luna clapped her hands together excitedly. "Stubby Boardman's house? Oh, yes please! I've been _so_ looking forward to finally meeting him. Perhaps I could get a private interview and complete the exposé Daddy was writing. He hated leaving articles unfinished. Do you think-"

Harry had stopped listening.

A flash of silver at the end of the block had caught her eye.

Four houses away, leaning against a lamppost and smoking a cigarette, was the very last person she would've wanted to run into at one o'clock in the morning. Even at this distance, his icy-blue leer and platinum-blonde hair were unmistakable.

_Not now, Piers… please. We were almost gone. We were almost free._

Pushing himself off the post, the thin boy slowly stalked towards them.

"Luna…" she breathed quietly. "How do you summon the Knight Bus?"

The blonde, who continued to ramble inanely, clearly hadn't heard her.

Piers flicked away his fag and flipped his wrist. Harry's heartbeat went into overdrive as she glimpsed the source of the silver flash.

It was a switchblade.

Whipping out her wand yet again, she pointed it at the approaching threat and yelled at the top of her lungs, "GET AWAY FROM US, POLKISS! _LUNA!_ THE KNIGHT BUS! _NOW!_"

Luna ceased her babbling, stood, calmly stuck her arm into the street, and waved.

With two houses between them, Piers broke into a run, his knife at the ready. Resolving to do what had to be done, she mentally rifled through a handful of semi-legal, particularly painful curses that would show the boy she wasn't to be trifled with.

Luckily for Piers, she didn't get the chance to use them.

With a percussive blast that put cannon fire to shame, a violently purple, triple-decker bus exploded onto Privet Drive. Brakes squealing, its tires skidding along the asphalt, the massive vehicle slammed to a stop in front of Number Four.

Ten feet away from her, the silver-haired boy stumbled. He spun wildly on the spot, his eyes darting about as if he could no longer see them. Crying out in angry frustration, Piers pitched his blade into the dark sky and fell to his knees, looking defeated.

Harry sagged in relief. The bus' shroud of perception, obfuscation, and muggle-repelling charms was hiding them from view.

Behind her, there was a hiss of hydraulics. A voice just barely disguising its thick Cockney accent with a veil of professionalism exclaimed loudly, "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can… _Oi_… Woss wrong with 'im, eh?"

Harry turned.

A gangly young man with large protruding ears and quite a few pimples was hanging halfway out of the entrance to the gaudy bus, all airs of propriety cast aside as he gaped openly at Piers.

"He's been exposed to Nargles, Stan," said Luna, picking up her trunk and stepping into the light. "His tolerance for them seems frightfully low."

The young conductor reddened and began to fuss with his disheveled uniform. "Oh… er… _'ullo_, Miss Lovegood. Didn' see you there in the sha'ows. Welcome back. Migh' I take your beautif- er… Migh' I take your bags?"

"Alright." Luna stuffed both trunks into Stan's arms and climbed the steps two at a time. "Let's go, Harry."

The blushing teen nearly fell out of the bus when he seemed to make the connection between Harry's name and her very recognizable face.

"Merlin's tit! You're 'Arry Potter, you are! Oi, Ernie! Look 'ere! You won't believe 'oo it is! It's 'Arry Po-"

Stan's mouth snapped shut as Harry's wandtip swiveled in his direction.

"Please," she said in soft, yet forceful whisper, glancing upward at the scattered occupants of the three-tiered vehicle. "Don't make a scene. I'd like to avoid attracting attention if I can help it."

The pimply young man gulped. "Er… y-yeah… _o'course._ I apologize, Miss. You won't 'ear nuffink more abou' it from me. Word's me bond, it is."

Harry nodded and quickly pocketed her wand. "Thank you. Stan, was it? Two tickets to London please. Twelve Grimmauld Place, to be exact."

"Jus' two? Tha' feller there not comin' with you?"

Harry took one last look at the huddled form of Piers and was rather unnerved to see trails of glistening moisture staining his pronounced cheekbones. For a split-second, she found herself tempted to reach out to the boy who had once offered her his juice box. For a split-second, she wanted to comfort him; to tell him that she understood.

But the kind thought was immediately squashed beneath a decade of bad memories.

"No," breathed Harry resentfully. "He's not with me. Never was, really. He… He made the wrong choice."

Stan raised an intrigued eyebrow as she clambered into the bus and took her seat next to Luna, but he thankfully didn't press the matter. Instead, he slapped the glass partition and yelled to the elderly wizard at the wheel.

"All aboard an' ready, Ern! Let 'er rip!"

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Walking through the bleach-white corridors of the Spell Damage wing, Neville wished he had the skill and the knowledge to turn himself invisible. The suspicion in the air was suffocating. Every head turned at his passing. Hands twitched, as if their owners had half-a-mind to reach for their wands. Mutters and whispers trailed in his wake, choking him like an uncomfortably tight cloak.

Had it not been for the gorgeous girl strolling leisurely at his side, Neville doubted he could have found the courage to make it this far into the hospital. Even with her offer of affection lingering over his head like a storm cloud, he still found her presence comforting.

Parvati was the first friend he'd ever had that didn't make him feel like a spare character in someone else's story. Whenever they were alone together, the gossipy persona she often displayed at Hogwarts disappeared. The real Parvati was quieter… kinder. And while not anywhere close to being as reserved as Padma, Neville could see the resemblance in their personalities.

"Merlin," he muttered, shifting nervously under the many nervous stares he was receiving from the healers, "I can't take much more of this. Wasn't my trial publicized? Don't they know I'm… well… _innocent?_"

"Don't worry, Nev," said Parvati sweetly, nudging him towards the locked door at the end of the hall. "This hype won't last much longer. The rumors are already dying down. And honestly, having people ogling you as you walk by seems like a relatively tame consequence of negative press. Imagine how Harry must feel. At the end of term, half the school was _still_ sending her dirty looks… as well as the occasional hex."

"I know… but… it's just a bit upsetting to see that people who've known me for over a decade actually believe I'm going to start launching Dark Marks at any given moment."

Looping her arm through his, she leaned into his shoulder. "Try not to think about it too much. Shall I stay out here while you visit?"

Neville flushed as they stopped in front of the door, unable to ignore the way her body was pressing against his own. "Erm… y-yeah. I… I won't be too long. Thanks, Vati."

With a sad smile, the caramel-skinned girl untangled their arms and wordlessly ducked into the cordoned waiting room on the opposite side of the hall.

Taking a deep breath, Neville placed his palm on the door's handle.

"_Name?"_ asked a female voice emanating from within the wood itself.

"Neville Longbottom."

"_Relation to patient?" _

"Son."

"_Reason for visit?"_

"Social."

There was a dull hum. A blue glow surrounded his hand and the lock clicked open.

"_In case of medical emergency, please alert the medi-witch on call."_

The Janus Thickey Ward of St. Mungo's Hospital was home to only three long-term residents: his mother, his father, and a very old woman who, in her younger years, had mistakenly ingested a dose of improperly-brewed polyjuice potion. Unfortunately for her, the potion had been supplemented with dog's hair and the transformation had never quite worn off.

As Neville shuffled into the overly-tidy chamber, a loud bark of greeting rang out from the leftmost bed.

"Hello, Agnes," he replied jauntily. "How are you? Feeling alright?"

The fur-covered woman barked twice, which was her answer for everything affirmative according to the healers, and then went back to her crossword puzzle.

Neville turned to the other two patients and his heart immediately sank. He was reminded yet again that a woman whose brain was half-canine was far sounder in mind than either of his parents. In all the years that he had been visiting, they had yet to show any improvement in clarity, and by the looks of things, it seemed that today was no different.

His father was huddled in the corner of the room, staring blankly at the ceiling whilst stroking a large, fuzzy creature that was doing its best to escape from his tight grip. It was clear that Great-Uncle Algie had recently paid the man a visit. How on earth the old coot had managed to sneak a puffskein past the healers, Neville didn't know.

His mother, as always, was lying in her bed, chewing avidly on a piece of gum. Even though she appeared outwardly calm, of the three patients in the room, she was by far the most unstable.

No one had ever told him the full story of exactly what she had been put through, but over the years, with enough tidbits here and there, he had managed to piece together a vague picture. While both of his parents had suffered a full forty-eight hours under the Cruciatus, Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange had proceeded to break his mother's sanity to the point of no return through a variety of other more intricate tortures; temporary dismemberment being the tamest of the lot. Truly, it was a miracle she wasn't catatonic.

Neville approached slowly, knowing that any sudden movements would send the woman into a bout of panicked screams.

She tensed and eyed him warily as he sat on the edge of her mattress. However, when he withdrew a pack of Drooble's from his pocket to place on her bedside table, she visibly relaxed.

"Hey, Mum," he whispered, lightly touching her arm. "It's me. It's Neville."

Although this statement had never before garnered any sort of meaningful response, he was still disappointed when she didn't bat an eyelid.

"So… just came by to check on you. Off to Diagon Alley next; have to get a new wand. After what happened, Gran said I couldn't be trusted with Dad's anymore. I… I lost it, see. I lost it and… and bad things happened. Mr. Crouch nearly died."

Unfazed by the news, Alice proceeded to blow a large gum bubble half the size of her head.

"Have you… Have you met Mr. Crouch?"

His mother popped the massive, pink bubble and with expert precision, spit the wad of gum into the bin at the foot of her bed.

"Wow… good shot."

She grinned proudly and tapped him on the knee, which let Neville know that he was at least managing to hold her attention.

"Things are finally dying down, I suppose. The Prophet was convinced I'd gone mad and was taking my revenge on Mr. Crouch because his son was… well… _you know_… one of the ones who hurt you, but they're slowly coming 'round to the idea that someone tried to frame me. Not as juicy a headline, but it still manages to make the front page."

Moaning, his mother reached for the packet of bubblegum he had brought with him.

Neville dutifully retrieved a fresh piece of the candy. "Gran's not going to be pleased when she finds out I've been buying you Drooble's. She thinks you've been using it as some sort of coping mechanism; that I'm hindering your recovery by feeding your addiction… _or something_."

"Gum," muttered the woman obliviously, snatching the pink cube from his open palm and flipping it into her mouth. "Gum-bum _bumblygum!_"

As she munched away, Neville slowly reached out and entwined their fingers. "We both know that's rubbish though, don't we? It's been years. If it were possible, you would've come back by now. You… You wouldn't have left me behind… r-right?"

Alice smacked her lips, smiled happily, and then pulled from her robes a handful of empty gum-wrappers. She tentatively placed them on the bed sheets and Neville, without hesitation, swiftly pocketed the lot.

"Thanks, Mum. I'll put them with the rest, okay?"

She nodded and went back to chewing.

The healers had told Neville on several occasions that if anyone other than himself attempted to take one of her wrappers, his mother would throw fits of epic proportion. Even though she no longer had the mental capacity to recognize him as her son, even though talking to her was akin to talking to a brick wall, it was for this odd little gesture that he continued to return. It let him know that some part of her still cared for him; that she was still trying to love him as best she could.

Swallowing the hard lump in his throat, Neville changed topics. "You seem happier today than usual. That's good. I'm happy too. I've made a friend. Well… regained one. Do you remember Parvati?"

His mother cocked her head curiously, but as per usual, offered no insight.

"She's been good to me this past month. If it weren't for her, I probably would have been locked up. In front of a full court, she swore on her life that she'd noticed the absence of my wand before I had gone out to search for it. I don't even know if it's true, but because she was the only witness, and because Mr. Crouch was adamant about not pressing charges, the Wizengamot ruled in my favor. I got off with a misdemeanor for 'Wand Negligence.' Some luck, eh?"

The woman stared at him blankly.

"Well, other than that, no big news so to speak. Cactuses are selling faster than I can breed them. The Magical Menagerie is sponsoring us now, so we've expanded the greenhouse."

Neville racked his brain for something else to talk about.

"What else… erm… Oh! The Junior Quidditch tournament is coming up. I won't be going, but after that, there's the World Cup. All the members of the teams participating in the juniors each got fifteen World Cup tickets for friends and family, so Harry and the Weasleys invited half of Gryffindor. Gran's never let me go before. S'going to be gre-"

He was interrupted when something pink and fluffy was shoved into his lap.

"Quidditch," said his father, gesturing at the squirming puffskein as he loomed over them. "Play."

"Er… right… maybe later, Dad."

"_Play!_" commanded the man, stomping his foot like an impatient child. "Play! Play! Play!"

With a resigned sigh, Neville agreed. He spent the next half-hour tossing the puffskein back and forth with his father. Although the little thing seemed to be having the time of its life as it flew through the air, Neville couldn't help but wince whenever Frank caught 'the quaffle.' Every time, the man would let out an almighty whoop and whirl the creature around his head.

This was how Miriam Strout, the healer in charge of the ward, found them when she bustled into the room levitating a tray of small vials and a large pitcher of blue potion.

"_Sweet Merlin_, boy! What do you think you're doing? Where did that animal come from?"

Neville shrank guiltily under her accusatory glare. "Sorry, Ma'am. Dad had it when I got here and he insisted that we play."

The motherly-looking woman bristled. "You should've come and found me at once! Pets are not allowed on Hospital premises."

"Oh… let him keep it," he pleaded. "I think it might be helping with his twitches. He stayed still right until I mentioned Quidditch."

"Out of the question!"

"But _why?_" asked the confident little bit of him that had been growing ever stronger these past few years. "We pay you to take care of them, not to keep them _bored_ to death."

"If you are dissatisfied with our services, then I suggest you either lodge a complaint or-"

"I'm not _dissatisfied!_ I just think they should be allowed to have fun if they're going to stay here!" He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I know that my Gran has been quietly slipping the Hospital galleons to prioritize the search for a cure, but I also know in my heart that my parents are too far gone to recover. So just… just keep them _happy_, alright?"

Healer Strout gave him a hard look, but eventually she nodded and began pouring the potions. "You're a very brave young man, Neville. During my tenure as a medi-witch, I've learned that clinging to hope is far easier than letting it go. I've tried on multiple occasions to convince Augusta of exactly what you just told me, yet she _still_ insists that her son and daughter-in-law remain here in our care when they could just as easily be at home with family. While it may be hard to accept, there is simply no cure for long-term exposure to the Cruciatus. The pain quite literally overloads the brain, causing irreparable damage."

"I know," replied Neville, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. "I… I know everything about it actually. Made it my mission to find out when I got to Hogwarts. Gran, on the other hand… I suppose she just wants the problem to go away. Doesn't talk about them if she can help it."

The medi-witch levitated a vial of the bubbling potion towards the bed. Upon seeing the blue liquid, his mother let out a bloodcurdling shriek of heartache and terror.

With a wave of her wand, the healer locked the woman's arms and legs in place and began to whisper soothingly, "Oh, I _know_, Alice. I _know_ you hate it, dear. But this is just the weekly nutritional potion, so no nasty taste. It's just like bubbly water. Be a good girl now and don't make a fuss."

Even though his mother screamed tearfully, choking and spitting up as the potion was poured down her throat, not once did Neville let go of her hand.

"I do despise this job sometimes," said the healer sadly as she waved the empty glass back to the tray. "I suggest cutting your visit short, Neville. You don't want to be here when I do your father's. Frank puts up a tremendous fight. Watching him struggle is quite awful, even for me… and I've been doing this for years."

Neville frowned. He didn't want to say goodbye just yet, but watching his father have a psychotic break was at the very bottom of his to-do list.

"I'll see you soon, Mum," he whispered to the still trembling woman, gently running his thumb over the surface of her palm. "I'll… I'll come back with Gran well before term starts. I promise."

As he made to stand, Alice flinched and went rigid. The limp grip she had on his hand tightened; tightened to a point that should have been impossible for a woman who had spent a third of her life in a hospital bed.

"Ouch! M-Mum… what are you-"

The paintings bedecking the walls shook ominously and an icy wind rushed through the ward. On the other side of the room, Agnes let out a frightened whine and tossed her paper aside. The woman dove beneath her sheets, burying her furry head within the confines of her pillows.

Eyes rolling in their sockets, her spine arching unnaturally, his mother began to whisper.

"_**At the end of the end… as conflicted souls become one… love shall challenge reason… and a light will shine in the dark."**_

Her voice was scratchy and hoarse, carrying within it a deep, eerie echo that seeped into his body like a bad ache.

"_**Blind to the suffering they cause… the words will be spoken… muttered in silence."**_

Although she didn't seem to be speaking to anyone in particular, Neville knew instinctively, somehow, that this message was meant for him.

"_**Lest the wrong be righted… Lest the wound be mended…" **_

The vice-grip she had on his hand tripled in strength and Neville yelped as the bones of his fingers snapped, breaking cleanly in two.

"_**Lest the spirals cease to spin… all… the world… shall burn!"**_

The woman let out a raspy breath, released him, and slumped backwards onto her mattress.

Cradling his shattered fingers, Neville stumbled away from the bed as fast his feet could carry him.

"Hand," commanded Healer Strout curtly, hurrying to his side. "Let me see."

As she dragged her wandtip along his skin, the bones it passed over popped painlessly back into place. When she finally finished, she tapped his palm. There was a loud _crack,_ and his hand was once again whole.

"There we are. Good as new."

"W-What… What _was_ that?" panted Neville, gingerly rubbing his fingers. "How did she get so _bloody_ strong?"

The woman smiled and patted his cheek. "It's nothing strange, dear. Temporary gain of increased physical ability is a fairly common symptom of speaking prophecy."

To Neville's ears, the room went very quiet save for the soft, gurgled squeaks of his father's distressed puffskein.

He could tell that Healer Strout wasn't taking the mickey out of him for two reasons: one, she had said it with a perfectly straight face, and two, he had known the woman for years; she simply wasn't the joking type. And yet, despite her seriousness, with the word 'prophecy' hanging in the air between them like a particularly foul stench, coming up with a reply that didn't sound like outright mockery was proving to be rather difficult.

"A prophecy?" he finally mumbled, unable to mask his tone of disbelief. "You're… You're saying my _mum_ just made a… _a prophecy?_"

She waved off his incredulity with the decorum of someone who had spent their entire life dealing with exactly that sort of question. "It's to be expected, isn't it? This _is_ a hospital for magical maladies and injuries, after all. I'd say we deal with prophetic episodes at least twice a month. Such occurrences are particularly frequent in the Spell-Damage wing. In fact, I believe this to be Alice's third."

"But… Mum isn't a Seer," protested Neville weakly. _"Is she?"_

"Of course not, dear. Don't be silly."

"Then… I don't understand."

Healer Strout leveled him with an odd look as she returned to her medical tray and decanted yet another vial of potion. "Didn't you tell me last Christmas that you were taking Divination at Hogwarts? _Surely_ you know that the vast majority of prophecies are made not by Seers, but by those suffering from magical ailments?"

Neville was stunned. "_Really?_ No… I… I didn't know that. To be honest, I haven't learned much of anything in Divination. Professor Trelawny spends most of our lessons predicting my death. I've just sort of… tuned her out, I suppose."

"Ahh…" said the medi-witch knowingly, "that makes sense. I'd forgotten that Sybill took up the post. We were in the same year at school, you know. I remember how she liked to argue with Professor Tawlty, saying he wasn't a _true_ Seer. In all likelihood, he probably wasn't… but I always suspected that Trelawny was in the same boat. Seers are _very_ rare; rarer perhaps than metamorphmagi."

The woman finished doling out the potions and gently began to usher him towards the open door.

"Best get a move on, young man. This won't be pleasant."

"Wait… Why the sick? How can someone that's not a Seer make prophecies?"

Healer Strout sighed exasperatedly at his refusal to budge. "As I'm sure you're well aware, clairvoyants are _born_, not made. The ability to _deliberately_ open your Inner Eye isn't something you can learn, which is partly the reason why so many witches and wizards consider Divination to be a waste of a subject. Furthermore, even if one _does_ have the ability, a true Seer must undergo multiple decades of focused training in order to properly exercise their power."

The woman cleared her throat and continued. "That being said, under the right circumstances, it is still possible for we non-gifted to use their magic to catch glimpses of the future."

"How?"

"I'm not an encyclopedia, dear. I can't say that I'm all too familiar with the specifics."

Neville folded his arms obstinately. "Just tell me what you _do_ know. This is my mum we're talking about."

Strout frowned at him, but quickly relented, probably hoping that he would stop pestering her once he had answers. "_Well_… in general… when a magical being is violently exposed to raw power, there are, _naturally_, side effects. One of the most prominent in cases of serious magical trauma is a weakening of the intangible walls that prevent our power from running wild. Therein lies the cause of your mother's prophecy; two days under the influence of the Cruciatus did quite the number not just on Alice's mind, but also on her ability to control her magic. To put it simply, she's not utilizing her Inner Eye out of her own free will. Episodes occur spontaneously… almost like a seizure."

Doing his best to absorb the information, Neville tried to keep a level head. "So… it was definitely a _real_ prophecy then, yeah? What was it about, do you think? It sounded important. Should we alert the Ministry? I should probably-"

"It's not wise to put much stock in fortune telling," advised the woman dismissively. "That goes double for any prophecy foretelling the end of the world. Futures change at the drop of a hat."

"But… _I mean_… this definitely sounds like something the Ministry would want to know about."

Healer Strout smiled reassuringly and lightly clasped his shoulder. "Report the incident if you feel compelled to do so, but I highly doubt they'll take the information seriously. Trust me, boy. There's no need to worry. This sort of prediction is less reliable than a poltergeist. Now… I apologize, but I _really_ must get back to my rounds. Off you go."

Feeling dazed as the medi-witch guided him out of the ward, Neville shakily raised a hand to bid farewell to his parents.

And as the door between them swung shut, his mother returned the parting gesture, the pain and sadness in her eyes more noticeable than ever before.

"Ready?" asked Parvati when he eventually stumbled into the waiting area. "I know she has the hospital bookshop to entertain her, but I expect Padma is getting a bit… Neville? What is it? You look like you've just seen a Grim."

"I'm… I'm f-fine," he stuttered quietly. "Let's get out of here."

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To say that Arthur Weasley disliked being a clerk would have been a considerable understatement.

He _despised_ it.

Compared to even his first job directly out of school, working at Slug and Jiggers Apothecary was extraordinarily dull. As a former Hogwarts Head Boy, he had taken his pick from the various entry-level openings within the Ministry's ranks, snagging a secretarial position in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes at the mere age of eighteen. Even though it wasn't what he had wanted to do with the rest of his life, at least pushing papers for the Reversal Squad had been interesting.

But this? Wrapping up potions ingredients and counting out sickles? It was torture.

And yet, as much as he hated it, he couldn't up and quit. The prize money from the Dailey Prophet Draw was helping to pay for basic necessities and school supplies for the children, but those galleons weren't going to last forever. Apothecary clerk was the highest paying job he could find that didn't require months of low-salary training.

Until Fudge was replaced, he was stuck here.

"We appreciate your patronage, Mrs. Cattermole," said Arthur with a smile that surely didn't reach his eyes. "Give Reg my best regards, won't you?"

The woman nodded genially, gathered her purchases, and left the tiny shop, holding the door open for another customer that was on his way in.

Arthur straightened when he recognized the familiar face and impeccably neat robes.

It was Bartemius Crouch.

"Good afternoon, Barty. You're looking well."

When Crouch saw Arthur standing behind the counter, he seemed genuinely surprised.

"Arthur Weasley! _By Jove_… is _this_ where you're working nowadays?"

Seeing how his unsociable former colleague wasn't known for being delicate, he took the condescending remark with a grain of salt.

"I'm afraid so. It was either this, or the night manager at Eyelops. The wife wouldn't have the latter, so here I am."

"Deplorable what Cornelius did to you and your son, Arthur; utterly deplorable. My name's been dropped in the mix for next year's election, you know. Should I become Minister, you'll have your positions back in no time flat."

"That's very kind of you, Barty, thank you. Anyway, what can I get for you today? Dittany is half-price on Saturdays."

"Ah yes… let's see." Crouch reached into his sleeve, withdrew a small roll of parchment, and handed it over. "I'll be needing ten ounces of everything on that list."

Arthur unfurled the scroll. His eyes did several double-takes as he scanned the column of scribbles. Not that it would matter to a wealthy man like Barty Crouch, but a handful of the ingredients listed were painfully rare and _obscenely_ expensive.

"Several of these items… Well, I can sell you what we have in stock, but without placing an overseas order, I can't get you ten ounces of each. The Boomslang skin will have to be imported from Africa and the Fluxweed from North America, so it will be at least a week before the shipment arrives."

Crouch waved him off. "No matter. I'll take what you can give me."

With a flourish of his wand, Arthur summoned the various vials and pouches from the surrounding shelves, directing the lot to the top of the enchanted scale that would write out a price in the shop's ledger.

"It looks like that'll be… one hundred forty-eight galleons, five sickles, and three knuts."

"Actually," mused Crouch, nonchalantly dropping a satchel of coins on the counter, "I've just had a startling revelation. Why don't we call it two-hundred galleons even? You can keep the extra for yourself in exchange for a small favor."

"A favor?" asked Arthur, eyeing the bag nervously. "What _sort_ of favor?"

"Nothing too serious. As I'm sure you've heard, my family's ancestral home was attacked by a supporter of You-Know-Who. Generations of Crouch history destroyed in a single night. When the manor is finally rebuilt, I wish to install enchantments that will safeguard my home against potential attacks; specifically from Fiendfyre."

Crouch pulled a small whiskey flask from the breast-pocket of his suit, unscrewed the top, and took a swig before continuing.

"The point is, Arthur, I'm looking for a top-notch contractor to set up my wards. I believe you once told me that your eldest is a Gringotts Curse-Breaker; that he works closely with the legendary Amir Mubarak?"

"Oh… _did I?_ Yes… Molly and I are quite thrilled with Bill's success. He's been so-"

"Perhaps you could have your son contact me?" interrupted Crouch. "I've heard that Mubarak's team is available for contract work, but I just can't seem to get in touch with them. These Gringotts goblins are rather tight-lipped when it comes to the whereabouts of their best Curse-Breakers."

Arthur was thrown by the sheer innocence of the request. The fifty galleon tip had suggested something infinitely more sinister.

"I'll send Bill an owl first thing in the morning, shall I?"

"Good man." Crouch snapped his fingers and a depressed looking house-elf wearing a polka-dotted sundress popped out of thin air, landing nimbly on the countertop. "Winky, take these ingredients back to my lodgings at the Leaky Cauldron. I still have errands to run."

Crouch's servant nodded demurely. "Yes sir, Master Barty, sir."

With a sharp _crack_, both the elf and the merchandise vanished.

Tipping his hat in parting, Crouch headed swiftly for the door.

"Pleasure doing business, Arthur."

"Ah… yes… anytime, Barty."

For the rest of the day, despite the mundane nature of his work, Arthur couldn't help but feel slightly elated. With little effort on his part, he had made a full month's salary in the span of three minutes. Come the weekend, perhaps he would buy a nice lamb shank at the butcher. It had been ages since Molly had used high-quality meat in her cooking.

When the clock nailed above the door stuck eight, he closed up shop and made his way down the street to Flourish and Blotts.

Bert, the shopkeeper, gave him a friendly smile as he entered. "Evening, Arthur. Heading home for the night, are you? Your boy's in storage sorting through the new arrivals."

Arthur chuckled. "Sorting? He's reading them more likely. If I didn't drag him home each night, I'm quite positive Percy would stay here until morning. His thirst for knowledge is insatiable."

"Aye," agreed Bert, emptying his register, "that be true. He's a good lad though. Works harder than the rest of the lummoxes I employ. You can go on back and fetch him, if you like. I trust you. Today's password is 'ink blot.'"

"Thank you, Bert. Molly hates it when we're late."

Arthur quietly maneuvered through the towering stacks to a small door at the rear of the bookshop. There was no handle of any sort, which he supposed would have been convenient were he levitating a stack of heavy tomes.

"Ink blot."

As if on an invisible pulley, the door swung open.

In his lifetime, Arthur had seen the naked bottoms of his seven children more times than he could count. He _had_ cleaned his fair share of nappies, after all. And yet… despite his vast experience, he wasn't at all prepared to come across Percy's bare buttocks in such an unexpected place.

Even more startling: wrapped around his son's buttocks were two distinctly female legs, a pair of lacy, purple knickers dangling precariously from one ankle.

Before his mind could fully process what was happening, before he could politely avert his eyes and quietly close the door, a gurgled exclamation of shock escaped his lips.

With a squawk of embarrassment, Percy spun, half-dropping the mousy-haired, seminude girl whom he'd been pressing into the wall.

"_F-Father!_ What are you- For Merlin's sake! _Avert your eyes!_"

Arthur came to his senses as the pair began scrambling frantically for their discarded clothing. "Yes! _Sorry!_ I'll just… I'll be outside!"

He quickly exited the bookstore, ignoring Bert completely when the man bid him farewell.

Five minutes later, Percy and his partner emerged, both blushing profusely. Following a hushed conversation which Arthur made a great deal of effort to ignore, the couple kissed and shared a remarkably intimate goodbye.

With a sheepish wave sent in Arthur's direction, Percy's young paramour hurried off, walking briskly toward the brick archway that secluded Diagon Alley from the rest of the world.

When she was finally out of earshot, Arthur turned to his middle son. After several failed attempts at speech, he was eventually able to bring himself to ask, "You and Penelope are no longer together?"

"We ended things last month," muttered Percy, avoiding his gaze. "She… She wasn't right for me."

"And this new lass… you're… _serious_ about her?"

Percy, looking beyond mortified, nodded. "Audrey and I… we… we just click."

"Well… _that's good_," breathed Arthur, feeling immensely relieved. "For a moment, I thought you might have been-"

"Father, _please!_ Can we _not_ discuss my personal life in the middle of the street?"

"Ah… yes… right you are. It's none of my business."

"That's not what I meant."

"But it's true nonetheless. You're a fully-grown man, Percy. What you do behind closed doors is no longer my concern. Now let's head home. It's almost dark and… and I'm sure your mother is getting… _antsy._"

"Wait! You won't tell her about this, will you?"

Arthur blanched, picturing his wife's reaction to the news. "Honestly, Percy… do you think me mad? If Molly didn't first have a heart attack, her plans for your wedding would soon be underway. No… your mother finding out about this is the last thing either of us wants."

Percy's anxious expression melted away. "Thanks, Dad."

"No problem, son. This is a good learning experience, you know. Next time, I'm sure you'll use a little more discretion."

"Yes… right… of course."

Upon disapparating from the designated area behind The Leaky Cauldron, appearing seconds later at the edge of the Burrow's wards, Arthur was not at all surprised to see his wife waiting for them outside the house.

Ever since they had gotten wind of Ginny's second abduction at school, Molly had reverted to the woman she'd been during the war; all nerves and no patience. 'Antsy' was a generous description of her newfound paranoia. In the two times that Arthur had arrived at the Burrow after the sun had set, he had come face-to-face with the business end of her wand.

Molly feverishly bundled him into a hug when they reached the front porch. "It's half past eight, Arthur! You should have been home an hour ago!"

"I know, dear. And I apologize. I had a flood of last minute customers."

Giving him a warm smile, she reached up and ran her fingers through what was left of his hairline. "Well, at least you came back in one piece. Come in and sit down. We ate without you, but dinner's still on the table."

"Does that 'we' include our daughter?" asked Arthur tepidly, following her into the house. "Did she even come downstairs?"

"I left a tray outside her door, but…" Molly shook her head and disappeared into the kitchen. "I can only hope she'll perk up when Harry arrives tomorrow morning. As is, I just don't feel comfortable sending her off to a foreign country to play Quidditch."

Arthur frowned, sliding into his customary seat at the head of the dining table. He wasn't altogether sure that Harry's arrival _would_ brighten his daughter's spirits. After four long weeks of watching her brood, he had slowly begun to notice that whenever anyone mentioned the black-haired girl in her presence, Ginny would either slip out of the room, or hastily change the topic of conversation.

Molly returned to the dining-room bearing two large bowls of piping-hot stew. "Here you are, dears. Eat up."

Eagerly taking up his spoon, Arthur dipped the utensil into the bowl and brought it to his lips. He closed his eyes in bliss as the beefy broth hit his taste buds. "Oh... that's marvelous. Just what I needed. Your culinary skill never ceases to amaze."

His wife patted his cheek appreciatively. "It's only _stew_, Arthur."

"Only stew? Ha!" Arthur covertly ran his hand along her round backside. "Your cooking is the highlight of my day. You really learn to appreciate life's little pleasantries when you spend your waking hours in a tiny room packed to the brim with foul-smelling potion ingredients."

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As Sirius' vintage Aston Martin barreled down the M-Five motorway, Harry couldn't help but think that her godfather was a tad insane. Ignoring every traffic law known to man, they were recklessly bobbing and weaving between the other motorists like a butterfly caught in a harsh breeze.

She didn't mind though. When it came to speed and danger, a ride in the bright red convertible paled in comparison to a ride on her Firebolt.

Shutting her eyes, Harry tilted her head over the edge of the car door and let the rushing wind freely buffet her hair. Thinking of the vehicle as a large broomstick equipped with comfortable leather seats wasn't a stretch for her imagination. The loud grind of its engine sounded very much like the roar of a Quidditch stadium's crowd. And its radio, fading in and out, mimicked the patchy, buzzing drone of a commentator perfectly.

_Potter dives!_

_Weasley blocks the competition's seeker!_

_Almost there!_

_Almost…_

_Potter catches the snitch! I don't believe it! Ladies and Gents… for the first time in eighty years, England takes the cup!_

"What are you smiling about?"

Harry sat up and looked round.

Instead of watching the traffic, Sirius was watching _her._

"_Nothing_," she said defensively. "I'm just… _smiling_. And keep your eyes on the road, you mad git! Are you _trying_ to kill us?"

"Don't worry, Harry," chimed Luna from the back seat. "I'm watching the road for him."

Unwilling to grapple with the kind of skewed logic that would purport such a response, Harry closed her mouth, sat back, and lost herself in the passing scenery.

Over the course of the next hour, the industrial parks and suburbs steadily gave way to open farmland and sweeping moors. The roads themselves got smaller and smaller until there was only a single lane servicing both directions of travel.

"Here we are," announced Sirius finally, turning onto an unpaved country drive lined by large, sturdy oak trees. "Ottery St. Catchpole."

Harry's insides churned when the tiny village came into view. In just a few short minutes, she'd be back where she belonged. In just a few short minutes, she'd be home.

As they drove through the center of town, Luna leaned forward and tapped Sirius on the shoulder. "Could you drop me at my family's tower, Mr. Boardman?"

"Certainly," replied Harry's godfather, waving and honking ostentatiously at the dumbfounded villagers who had clearly never seen such a flashy car. "Forgotten something again, have you?"

"Oh… _no_… I'd just like to pop in for a visit. Also, the dirigible plums need tending." Luna turned her strangely-penetrating stare towards Harry. "Would you like to come with me? You could meet Mummy and Daddy properly. I'm sure they wouldn't mind having visitors."

Harry shifted awkwardly in her seat. She doubted that she'd be able to visit the grave of Luna's father without suffering some sort of breakdown.

"_Luna_… You can't expect me… No… I just can't. I'm sorry."

Luna cocked her head. "Don't apologize, Harry. I know you think I don't understand… but I do. I'm quite intelligent, you know."

The blonde beamed at her and Harry felt her cheeks begin to flush. On moments such as these, when Luna's capacity for blunt affection broke through her air of spacey detachment, Harry experienced a strong urge to snog the girl senseless.

As they finally came around the bend that shielded Luna's peculiar home from view, the odd Ravenclaw hopped out of the car well before Sirius could bring it to a complete stop.

Forgoing the pretense of a farewell, Luna skipped off down the cobbled path leading to the tower's front door. Harry watched her every step of the way, privately admiring the way her dirty-blonde hair bounced and shone in the afternoon sun.

_Maybe Alice is right. _

_Perhaps we could..._

_Something casual, that's all._

_..._

Tearing her eyes away from the skipping girl, Harry focused instead on the many delicious dishes Mrs. Weasley might be preparing for her birthday feast.

Luna disappeared into the house and Sirius pressed on the gas. Once they were a respectable distance from the tower, he cleared his throat pointedly.

"Harry?"

"What?"

"Before we part ways today, there's… er… there's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Harry leaned forward, craning her neck for a glimpse of the Burrow. "For the last time, Sirius, I don't want to know _anything_ about your flea problem."

Her godfather grinned. "_No_… no… it's nothing like that. It's about _you,_ actually; I have… a niggling concern."

"Oh… alright. Fire away."

Casually drumming his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the stereo's fuzzy music, Sirius nodded at the tower behind them. "Have you always been attracted to both sexes… or is this a recent development?"

Harry snapped her head round so fast, her collarbone let out a loud _crack_ of protest.

"_W-What?"_

Sirius shrugged innocently. "Ginny, the Lovegood girl… even Hermione on occasion; I've seen the way you look at them. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

Harry spluttered wildly. "That's… I don't even… I've no idea what you mean!"

"Come now, lass. Don't bother denying it. I could always tell when your mother was lying… and you look and act just like her."

Her heart plummeted. If Sirius had discerned the truth from a few stolen glances, then others with whom she had spent more time might have come to similar conclusions.

"Am I… Am I _really_ that obvious?"

"`Fraid so," laughed the grizzled man. "_Well_, obvious to _me_, at least."

Feeling wretched, Harry slumped in her seat and let her hair fall into her face. "I know it's strange, Sirius. I know I'm… _different._"

"_Different?_ I wouldn't say that. My Great-Aunt Dorea, one of your Great-Grandmothers… now _she_ was different. Mad as a mooncalf. She used to wear her dead cat Mittens for a hat."

His meager attempt to lighten the mood did little to raise Harry's spirits. If anything, it made her feel worse.

"I just… I want you to know that I can't _help_ what I am. I've tried to change, _believe me._ I've tried to forget… tried to put the attraction aside… but... I _can't_. I don't even want to anymore. It's a part of me. Please don't hate me for it, Sirius."

Without warning, her godfather slammed his foot on the brakes. The sleek automobile came to a screeching halt, kicking up a cloud of earthy dust in its wake.

"Hate you?" barked Sirius sharply, dropping the car into park and fixing her with a hard look. "_Hate you?_ What in Merlin's name gave you the idea that I'd _ever_ be able to hate you?"

Harry shrank in on herself, unable to meet his gaze, terrified he was going to reject her. "Well… I've… I've been told that most of the wizarding world doesn't care for people like me."

Unbuckling and scooting across the leather seat, Sirius wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her into a tight hug.

"Now you listen to me, Harriet Potter. I'm not nor will I ever be_ 'most of the wizarding world'_. In fact, I've long held the opinion that _'most of the wizarding world'_ should go stuff itself. You're my _goddaughter,_ Harry. Whatever else you might or might not be apart from that doesn't matter to me in the slightest. How could it? When I was rotting away in Azkaban, your pudgy little face was the one happy thought the Dementors couldn't pry from my head. You mean the world to me and nothing is ever going to change that."

Warm, wondrous relief loosened the knot of fear that had settled in the pit of her stomach. Taking comfort in the reassuring words, Harry snuggled into the man's embrace. "So you still… _you know_… want to be around me?"

"_Of course I do_. Once a month, Remus becomes a bloodthirsty killing-machine, but you don't see me pushing _him_ away, do you?"

"I… I suppose not."

Sirius pulled back, giving her hair a good tussle in the process. "Hate you… _honestly_… I'm a little insulted. The only reason I brought it up in the first place was because I was concerned for your well-being. I thought perhaps it was the cause behind your _oh-so-sunny_ disposition as of late."

"Oh… _yeah_…" muttered Harry, her mind wandering to her favorite redhead, "that's… that's certainly part of it. I just… _Look_… can we talk about this some other time? Today's my birthday and I'm really not in the mood to feel miserable."

"Better to feel miserable than numb," countered Sirius, smiling wryly as he shifted the gear back into drive. "But suit yourself."

Although Harry didn't quite agree with him, she chose not to argue, letting the conversation dwindle into a comfortable silence broken only by the rumble of the convertible's powerful engine. As much as she appreciated Sirius' concern, she wasn't about to take relationship advice from a man who probably knew less about love than she did.

When the car finally pulled into the rounded dirt clearing that served as the Burrow's front drive, a familiar sound reached Harry's ears. Reverberating from somewhere within the crooked house was the lilting croon of Celestina Warbeck. It bounced and echoed out of every open window, filling the summer air with a pleasantly fitting hum.

From within her trunk, Alice began to match the songstress' melody with her own. Together, the famed singer and the diminutive snake wove a disjointed sort of harmony that put Harry completely at ease.

Above the music, Harry could hear the angry voice of Mrs. Weasley. She could tell that the woman was incensed, but she couldn't quite make out the topic of her foster mother's ire. This was quickly remedied a second later when several muffled explosions rocked the makeshift tower.

The twins were making trouble.

As Harry exited the vehicle, the dozens of chickens that had been littering the grassy lawn swarmed around her feet, flapping and clucking with frenzied fervor. She shooed them away as best she could before removing her trunk and dragging it toward the porch.

At the front door, Harry gave pause. She suspected that in just a few seconds, Ginny would charge out, knocking her to the ground in a fierce hug, just as the girl had done so many times before.

Stepping back, she leaned against her trunk and waited, listening for the telltale sign of Ginny's approach.

But no one came.

The door remained shut.

"Everything all right?" asked Sirius as he sidled up behind her, levitating Luna's luggage. "Is it locked?"

Confused and somewhat hurt, Harry shook her head. If Ginny was using the Looking Glass, then the redhead already knew they had arrived.

_Maybe she's still feeling ill?_

Strangely apprehensive, Harry swallowed hard, opened the door, and walked into the house.

The first thing she noticed upon entering was the distinct lack of Weasleys present to greet them. In all her time staying at the Burrow, never had she seen the sitting-room so devoid of redheads. It disturbed her.

The second thing she noticed was a great plume of milky, pinkish smoke billowing down the stairs.

"Hello, Weasleys!" shouted Sirius, waving his hand in front of his face to clear away the sickly fumes. "We're here! I've brought Harry!"

"Be with you in a moment, dears!" answered Mrs. Weasley. "Just have to-"

She was drowned out by yet another bout of explosions.

Harry sat herself down on the edge of the sofa, wincing every so often as she listened to the Weasley matriarch threaten Fred and George. The vivid and violent imagery the woman was employing in her description of what she was going to do to them should they not open their bedroom door was nothing short of terrifying.

Eventually, the sounds of their squabble became background noise and Harry turned her attention to the family clock. Her own hand, made from a different metal than the rest, lay parallel with Ginny's and Mrs. Weasley's. All three were pointing towards 'Home'. Four hands, the hands belonging to Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Mr. Weasley, were each fixed at 'Work'. The twins', of course, both rested at 'Mortal Peril', as was always the case whenever they retreated to their room to experiment. Ron's hand, to her mild amusement, was oscillating frantically between 'Lost' and 'Shopping'.

From behind her, Sirius let out a soft chuckle, and when Harry turned, she saw that he too was watching the clock.

"What's so funny?"

Her godfather grinned. "Nothing, lass. Just remembering a time when life was a little simpler. Before it was destroyed, Potter Manor had a clock just like this one. It was your great-grandfather's pride and joy."

"Really?" asked Harry, intrigued. "Who was on it?"

"Oh… dozens; everyone and anyone that old Charlus considered family. The day I ran away from home, the day my mother scorched my name from the Black family tapestry, he added a hand for me as well, accepting me as an honorary Potter. It was one of-"

"One of the best days of your life?" finished Harry, remembering how overwhelmingly happy she had been when the Weasleys had gifted her with the clock hand. "Yeah… I can relate to that."

Sirius reached out and gently tucked Harry's bangs behind her ear. "I wish you couldn't. I wish… I wish I'd been there for you. James and Lily… they trusted me to take care of you and I-"

"I don't blame you for going after him," interrupted Harry, turning her cheek into the palm of his large hand. "I really don't. You're here now; you're free again. That's all that matters. We can be a proper family, just like my parents wanted."

The man's harrowed silver-grey eyes softened and for the first time, Harry thought he looked exactly as he did in her parents' wedding photo: cheerful, healthy, and content.

Just as Sirius opened his mouth to reply, the twins hurtled out of the crooked staircase, whooping and laughing like madmen.

"HIYA, HARRY!" shouted Fred, making for the kitchen's back door.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" yelled George, hot on his brother's heels.

Mrs. Weasley chased after them, storming down the stairs with her wand drawn and sparking, her amber eyes burning with barely-contained fury. "BOYS! GET BACK HERE!"

Harry quickly identified the source of the pink smoke that had been flooding into the sitting-room in ever-increasing quantities. It was pouring out of Molly's ears like water from a pair of faucets.

By the time the incensed woman finally reached the bottom step, the twins were long gone. Mrs. Weasley seemed aware of this, for she slowed and leaned against the banister, clutching at a stitch in her side.

Hurrying over, Harry helped guide the panting redhead into an armchair. She couldn't help but notice that Mrs. Weasley's breathing seemed overly-labored. A brisk jot down the stairs shouldn't have winded her so.

"Mrs. Weasley… are you… _alright?_"

Raising a trembling hand, Molly patted Harry's arm appreciatively. "I'm fine, dear. Getting older, that's all. It's wonderful to see you. You look well; not as peaky as I expected."

Harry frowned and after a moment's hesitation, she stretched out a mental tendril to brush against the woman's surface thoughts.

As soon as the probe made contact, a powerful flood of worry and fear surged through Harry's mind. The anger she thought she'd feel over Fred and Geroge's mischief didn't even begin to register. Instead, she saw glimpses and flashes of the most horrible of imagined scenarios: Death Eaters swarming the Burrow, Arthur lying in a pool of blood, Ron with his head bashed in, Ginny flayed alive, the twins torn to pieces, Percy disemboweled, Bill lying broken and battered, and Charlie naught but a pile of ash.

Harry hastily withdrew, feeling nauseous.

Wading through the bog of smoke, Sirius cleared his throat and gestured towards Molly's ears. "Might I offer my services as a reformed prankster?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled gratefully. "Would you? The boys slipped a Channeling potion into my tea, but they've nicked the cup and hidden it away in their bedroom. Normally, I'd barge right in and take it, yet it seems they've come up with a way to keep me out. Runes on the door, I expect."

Sirius twitched and Harry saw the tiniest flicker of guilt flash across his face. Whatever the twins had done, her godfather had likely shown them how to do it.

"Perhaps you might have a talk with them as well?" pressed Molly as Sirius started towards the stairs. "I know I'll never be able to wean them off their jokes entirely, but Fred and George need to learn that there's a time and a place for everything… even laughter. I know they worship you, Sirius, so perhaps they'll listen to what you have to say?"

"Ah... right you are. I'll see what I can do."

Mrs. Weasley turned back to Harry as Sirius ascended the staircase, her expression stern. "I'll have you know, young lady, that entering someone's mind without first obtaining permission is most impolite. I also think it important to inform you that your touch is _more_ than noticeable. The majority of wizarding adults who survived the war have a basic understanding of Occlumency. Should you attempt to access their thoughts, it is likely they will detect you and retaliate."

Harry began to stutter an apology, but Mrs. Weasley held up a hand to stop her. "Just knowing that you won't attempt it again is enough."

Looking away guiltily, Harry nodded. "But… about what I saw…"

"War is coming, dear. I can feel it. And as you no doubt noticed, I'm _literally_ worrying myself sick. The first time round, I saw with my own eyes the atrocities committed by both sides. I lost friends… family… my parents and my brothers. _Thousands_ died… and only a portion of them were granted the mercy of a swift end."

Mrs. Weasley shuddered and then continued. "The thought of losing my children _terrifies_ me, Harry. What's more, I'm horrified to see how resigned you and Ginny are to the fight; making pacts and swearing oaths."

The woman's eyes took on a glassy quality, as if she was no longer seeing the room. "What you both fail to understand is that war is unknowable and cruel. War strips us down… breaks our hearts when we least expect it. You won't be spared from its horrors simply because you've decided to protect each other."

Unable to think of something to say that wouldn't sound childish, Harry stayed quiet. Thankfully, she didn't have to suffer the awkward silence for very long. Sirius returned within minutes, bearing Molly's favorite china teacup. The dark liquid inside was bubbling violently, releasing a steady stream of pink smoke identical to the ones pouring from either side of the woman's head.

Sirius daintily handed the cup to Mrs. Weasley who downed the whole thing in few quick gulps. Once the cup was empty, the smoke streams sputtered and died.

"Ah… that's much better. Thank you, Sirius."

"Not a problem, Molly. I'll go find the twins, shall I?"

Harry snagged the man's sleeve before he could duck into the kitchen.

"You'll stay for the party, won't you?"

Sirius leaned down and pecked a whiskery kiss on Harry's forehead. "I'll stay as long as you'd like, Prongslette."

Satisfied, Harry released him.

Mrs. Weasley stood, straightening her apron as Sirius trudged out of the house. "I'm afraid it won't _be_ much of a party if Ronald continues to dawdle. I sent him to the grocer two hours ago. There'll be no time to cook if he doesn't return soon. And Ginny… she's supposed to be helping me prepare."

"Where is she?" asked Harry, finally voicing the question that had been sitting at the back of her mind from the moment she'd entered the house.

"I haven't the foggiest. I was under the impression that she was in her room, but judging by the charm on your wrist, I'd say she's scaled the trellis and run off."

Harry looked down at the quill charm attached to her coiled bracelet. Instead of pointing straight up, it was veering off to the left.

Her heart sank ever lower. Climbing down the side of the Burrow didn't seem like something a bedridden invalid would be all too keen to do.

"Mrs. Weasley… in your reply to my letter, you told me that Ginny was ill. I take it she's feeling better now?"

Rather than offering any sort of answer, the woman began to tidy the room, using her wand to straighten bits and bobs that didn't really need adjusting.

When Harry repeated the question, Mrs. Weasley directed her spells to the pile of muck-encrusted wellies stashed haphazardly by the door.

Together, the evasive actions spoke volumes.

"Mrs. Weasley?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Ginny wasn't really ill, was she?"

Mrs. Weasley slowly lowered her wand. "Not… Not in the traditional sense, no."

"The traditional sense?"

Molly nodded. "There's definitely _something_ wrong with my daughter, Harry, but for the life of me, I can't figure out what it is. Ginny won't tell me. She won't tell anyone. At first, we thought she was crumbling under the weight of her combined traumas, but when we tried to comfort her, she angrily pushed us away. And now I'm at a loss."

"So why did you-"

"I wrote what I did in that letter because I didn't want you panicking. I know how easy it is for you to lose control of your emotions… as well as what happens when you do."

Harry bit down on the indignant protest that threatened to roll off her tongue. She didn't enjoy being treated like she was some sort of fragile glass object, but considering her poor track record with bad news that involved Ginny… well, she understood why Mrs. Weasley had deemed withholding the information prudent.

"Do you at least have any idea why Ginny stopped replying to my letters?" asked Harry anxiously. "Was it something I did?"

"I think the best thing to do would be to ask her that yourself. If anyone can get that girl to talk, I expect you'll be the one to do it." Mrs. Weasley paused, looking torn, as if whatever she was about to say next went against her better judgment. "_Ginny_… she… she cares about you in ways that transcend my comprehension. She loves you; _trusts_ you with every fiber of her being. It's almost reached the point of … of being… _well_…"

"Of being what?"

Grimacing, the red-haired woman struggled to express herself, fumbling over her words and avoiding Harry's eyes. After a full minute, she gave up entirely. "It's… It's nothing, dear. Don't mind me." With a small, resolute shake of her shoulders, Mrs. Weasley resumed cleaning the room. "Why don't you run along and fetch Ginny back to the house. There are chores to be done."

Bewildered, but eager to find her best friend, Harry nodded and slinked out of the sitting room, pausing only briefly to inhale the heavenly aroma lingering around the kitchen.

As she emerged into the overgrown garden, her presence scattering the gaggle of potato-shaped gnomes that were gnawing on Mrs. Weasley's tomatoes, Harry saw Sirius and the twins. Out beyond the haystack, her godfather was brandishing his wand, transfiguring handfuls of loose straw into fat, magenta frogs. The firm lecture he had been tasked to give the boys had clearly dissolved into a pranking lesson.

Ignoring the inclination to join them, Harry clambered over the stone wall encircling the garden and made her way to the paddock's edge. She held up her wrist and let her gaze follow the straight line made by the quill charm's tip. It was fixed on the dead center of the distant forest.

She realized immediately where Ginny had gone.

Vaulting the fence, Harry slogged through the boggy field stretching out beyond the Weasley's property. With every step, her snitch-patterned shoes sank deeper into the mud.

When she reached the outskirts of the woods, she stopped. The well-trod path they usually used to reach the stream was two miles to the south and Harry was feeling somewhat impatient.

Making sure no one was around to see, she drew her wand, tapped herself on the head, and hissed.

"_Hessriieth Zessarah."_

The air surrounding her thickened as if it was being rapidly compressed. There was a distinct ripple, a shimmer of magic at work, and then she felt something slither over and around her limbs, shifting and wriggling like a bed of frenzied snakes.

_Right then._

With enough focus, Harry was able to will the imperceptible snakes upward, effectively lifting her body from the ground. The dangling sensation wasn't pleasant per se, but of the many obscure enchantments and rituals she had learned from Herpo's pensieve, this was the only spell that didn't cause her stomach to turn at the thought of casting it.

As she hung suspended, puppetlike, Harry couldn't help but admire the charm that allowed for unaided flight. It manipulated not her body or the air around it, but the empty space housing both. She was quite literally bending the fabric of the universe with naught but her wand and will. It was a brilliant bit of magic, despite its less-than-reputable origin. According to Professor Vector's longwinded lectures on the principles of Arithmancy and Sagecraft, lectures which Hermione loved regurgitating to anyone with ears, the level of genius required to create a spell of such complexity was nigh incomprehensible.

Rising above the treetops, Harry drifted slowly towards the center of the woods, faltering and falling every so often as her thoughts strayed from the task at hand. When she finally reached the winding break in the trees, she scanned the stream below, searching.

And then she saw it: a speck of cherry red through the branches.

_Gin._

Heart pounding, Harry dove through the canopy, canceled her spell a little too late, and crashed into the water with less grace than a flailing hippogriff.

"Nice form. Bit over-the-top though. I'll give you a solid seven out of ten."

Spluttering, shaking from both the cold and anticipation, Harry looked up.

Leaning against her favorite rock, waist deep in the stream, sat Ginny. To Harry's relief, apart from the paunchy dark circles under her eyes, the girl seemed no worse for wear. Her legs were pulled to her chest protectively and her Looking Glass was nestled in the gap… but she looked fine.

In fact, clad in an old white swimsuit re-sized to fit her developing body, her long hair draped over her shoulder in a shining, elegant braid, the redhead was every bit as gorgeous as she'd been before the Shack. Strips of crisscrossed freckles a shade lighter than the rest were the only physical remnant of her terrible, disfiguring scars.

Pushing herself onto her hands and knees, Harry crawled forward and slumped against the warm, creamy thighs of her best friend. "You know me, Gin. I'm nothing if not dramatic."

"'Dramatic' is putting it mildly, Harry. Instead of bingeing on chocolate when it was your time of the month, you decided to take a voluntary freefall out of Gryffindor Tower. Remember?"

Harry pouted. "You're never going to let me forget that little moment of stupidity, are you?"

"Probably not." Smiling radiantly, Ginny slid her slim fingers into Harry's hair. "I'm glad you're here. I missed you. _So _much."

"I missed you too," breathed Harry, closing her eyes in bliss as the redhead's fingernails raked over her scalp. "I was going bonkers without your letters."

"Really?"

"Yes _really!_ Why did you stop writing to me, Gin? You might be able to watch me all the time now, but that doesn't mean I-"

"I haven't been watching you," interrupted Ginny, ceasing her pleasant ministrations. "Not for weeks."

Harry opened her eyes and sat up. She tapped the Looking Glass with her knuckle. "What's that for then?"

"Comfort mostly."

"Comfort?"

Ginny ran her fingers over the smooth stone appreciatively. "You know how I have trouble sleeping without you? Well… it's gotten quite a bit worse. Sometimes I'll go for days without. Eventually, I just pass out from exhaustion and have nightmares I can't wake up from. It's not a very good substitute for you, but holding this… holding this helps make them less intense."

Harry reached out, gently plucked the stone from the freckled girl's grasp, and deposited it on the rock above their heads. "You don't have to worry about that again. Not for ages. Until next summer, I'll stay with you every night."

The redhead grimaced, all traces of happiness falling from her face. "I don't think your new girlfriend is going to appreciate that."

"Girlfriend?" giggled Harry, splashing a bit of water onto her friend's legs. "What are you on about? I don't have a girlfriend."

"Yeah?" scoffed Ginny. "Don't let Luna hear you say that."

"Luna?"

"Who else? You were snogging the life out of her, Harry. She- She was _bloody_ undressing you. I saw it."

Harry leaned back, stunned, unsure how to go about explaining herself. "_Gin_… I… Yes… we kissed… but Luna's _not_ my girlfriend."

Gold-flecked eyes sparking with sudden anger, Ginny slapped the surface of the stream, causing a great wave of cold water to hit Harry squarely in the face. "I'm not a _child!_ You don't need to lie to me!"

"I'm _not_ lying!" protested Harry, drying herself on her already damp sleeve. "You obviously didn't stick around to watch what happened next, else you'd know that I didn't let it go any further than that. And… And even if we _were_ together, my having a girlfriend wouldn't be any of _your_ concern. We already went through this with Michael. I don't get to have a say in _your_ love life, just like you don't get to have a say in _mine._ You can't stop me from liking Luna."

"I _knew_ you liked her! I _knew_ you wanted her!"

"Wanted her? I _wanted_ her?" Blushing furiously, Harry dipped her hands into the crystalline drink and with a great thrust upwards, soaked the redhead soundly. "I WANTED _YOU!_"

Ginny went painfully still as the shouted words bounced and reverberated off the surrounding rocks, echoing through the forest, scaring dozens of birds into startled flight.

Trying not to stare at the glistening beads of moisture that dripped tantalizingly down the girl's freckled chest, Harry slowly repeated herself.

"I… I wanted _you_, Gin. When Luna was kissing me… you were… you were all I could think about."

Ginny hunched her shoulders and looked away.

Dismayed by the lack of reaction, Harry broached the argument they had agreed to put on indefinite hold.

"I should think you'd be happy. Me pining after you like a pathetic mess for the rest of my life; isn't that what _you_ wanted?"

Again, the girl said nothing.

"Oh so you're just going to ignore me now?" asked Harry, her voice cracking with a bit more vitriol than intended. "Well, luckily for me, the silent treatment works both ways. Consider this as me officially telling you to mind your own damn business!"

Giving Ginny another good splash, she flopped backwards into the shallows and let her limbs drift with the soft current.

Its passing made all the more sluggish due to the awkward tension that had settled between them, the rest of the afternoon inched by at a snail's pace. Ginny seemed resolved to not be the first to speak, so when the sun began to sink below the edges of the treetops, Harry had no choice.

"As much as I've enjoyed lying here _not_ talking to the only person I really wanted to talk to… we need to go. I was supposed to fetch you back hours ago." Wringing the water from her hair, she picked herself up, stretched, and held out a hand to Ginny. "Come on, you big ginge. Up you get."

The redhead clasped the proffered wrist, but instead of using it to stand, she gave a tremendous tug that was as surprising as it was forceful.

Losing her footing on the slippery rock bed, Harry tumbled forward, falling right into her best friend's lap.

"Oi! What are you-"

The words died in her throat. Ginny's hands were sliding into her tank-top. They slipped around her midriff, settled against the small of her back, and pulled her into a snug straddle.

"Forgive me," whispered Ginny, burying her nose in Harry's neck. "Please don't be cross."

Harry shivered. The redhead's hot breath was tickling her bare clavicle in the most wonderful way. Combined with how their hips were grinding together, there was little she could do to prevent the hourglass from flipping.

White-hot magic poured into her mind, expanding her perception, casting even the bleakest parts of the world into vibrant, scintillating Technicolor. The trickling creek became a fearsome, roaring river; the gentle breeze a billowing tempest.

"I'm not… I'm not mad, Gin." With all her faculties magnified, the already intense sensations that Ginny's touch instilled were quickly becoming too much for her to take. "Let go and… and we'll talk."

Ginny shook her head and pressed a chaste kiss into the bottom of Harry's jaw. "I'm so sorry I stopped sending you letters. I know how much you needed them. I tried writing a hundred times, but the only thing that came out of my quill was a plea begging you not to be with Luna."

"G-Ginny," panted Harry, frantically attempting to wiggle free, "let go! It's been months since we've touched and I… Gin, you have to let me go!"

"No! No I won't!" cried Ginny obstinately, tightening her hold. "I don't want to share you with her! I don't want to share you with anyone! You're… You're mine!"

"That's not what I... I'm not... I'm not used to... It's too much..."

With a shuddering gasp, Harry locked her arms behind Ginny's neck and braced herself against the oncoming flood.

_Oh God!_

Like the tide crashing upon a cliff, waves of raw heat slammed into her body, rocking her to the core. Her thighs shook, her toes curled, and her brain turned to soupy mush. It was ecstasy. It was agony. It was sensory overload drizzled in strawberry-flavored euphoria.

When the waves finally subsided, although Ginny had released her, Harry could barely move. She tried to stand, but her legs only partially obeyed, resulting in a rather klutzy stumble that ended with her toppling backwards into the stream.

With their bodies no longer connected and the chilly water lapping at her skin, Harry slowly regained control of both her muscles and her magic. Ashamed of herself, she righted the hourglass and chanced a quick glance at her best friend.

Ginny's cheeks had flushed to a shade of crimson even darker than her hair.

"Harry… did you-"

"I _told_ you to let me go!" spat Harry before the redhead could say it. "It was too much too fast! Why don't you ever listen to me?"

The freckled girl swelled indignantly. "No need to get shirty. Yeah… it's a bit… _embarrassing_… but this isn't new for us."

"I know that! I just…" Harry clutched at the sides of her head. "I just wish it didn't happen, _alright?_ I'm trying _so_ hard to move on and it doesn't help at all."

Ginny crawled forward through the water to kneel at her side. "But I don't want you to move on. You're mine."

Harry let out a dry, hollow laugh. "Is this why you're out here sulking, then? Is this really why you're letting your Mum think you've lost it? You thought I had a girlfriend so you decided to throw a fit?"

The girl, obviously uncomfortable, slid a little closer. "Yeah… because you're mine. And no one else's."

"I've always been yours," snapped Harry harshly. "_Always._ Do you realize how that makes me feel, Gin; to know that I _belong_ to you, when you don't belong to me?"

"I don't care."

"You… You don't _care?_ You don't care that you're driving me round the bend?"

"No," whispered Ginny, "I don't. You're the only thing that makes me happy. You're mine."

"Stop saying that!"

"I need you… just like you need me. You're mine."

Temper flaring, Harry stood, drew her wand, and leveled it at Ginny's face. "I said shut it!"

"_Mine."_

"Say it again and I'll hex you!"

The redhead glared defiantly at the offending wandtip, her bottom lip quivering. "No you won't. You love me. You're mine… forever and ever."

"And _you're_ a selfish bint!" cried Harry, grabbing Ginny by the strap of her frayed swimsuit and hauling her to her feet. "I _need_ to move on! I don't want to feel like I'm dying when I see you with the next Michael Corner!"

Ginny reached up to sweep away the wet hair sticking to Harry's face. "What if I… What if I made you a promise that there'd never _be_ another Michael Corner?"

Angry and hurt, Harry slapped the hand from her skin. "Don't make promises you can't keep!"

"I _can_ keep it."

Scoffing derisively, she attempted to shove her friend backwards, but the redhead dodged deftly, latched onto her wrist, and pulled her close.

"I can keep it. I can and I will."

"Get off!" hissed Harry. She wrenched her captured arm from side to side, not caring that it was largely useless to struggle against Ginny's stronger Chaser-honed grip. "You're hurting me!"

"Look at me."

"No!"

"_Look at me!"_

The mixture of earnest pleading and firm command in the girl's voice broke Harry's desire to escape. Her arm went limp. Her very _being_ went limp.

A finger under her chin tilted her head upwards. Ambers met emeralds and her heart thrummed pleasantly.

"So long as your eyes are on me," said Ginny breathlessly, "I won't want for anything else. Boyfriends… relationships… I'll swear them off. I promise."

Harry whimpered softly as the redhead leaned in, brushing the tips of their noses together.

"Trust me, Har."

"It's… It's not that simple."

"It is. I'll even make another vow, if you'd like."

Harry shook her head. "No more vows."

"Then we're agreed?" asked Ginny hopefully. "No boyfriends? No girlfriends? Just… _us?_"

Harry searched the girl's freckled face, committing every little detail to memory. She wanted desperately to say yes, but something was holding her back; something deep down; a fearful stirring in that greedy little part of her that had always yearned for more.

"I… I don't think so, Gin."

"But I thought-"

"I know. Every little voice in my head is telling me to shut my mouth and agree." Slipping her hand out of the redhead's now slack grip, Harry took a step back, allowing herself a little room to breathe. "If you had asked me that before the Shack, I would have said yes in a heartbeat."

Ginny hung her head, looking lost. "I don't understand. What's stopping you?"

"Do you remember what Flamel said to me at the fountain? About letting me walk to my fate?"

The redhead gave a tentative nod. "Yeah… What about it?"

"Well… I think… I think he meant that I'm going to die soon. For good."

Alarmed, Ginny closed the distance between them, flattening Harry against the rocky bank. "Don't you dare start believing that!"

"How can I not? Voldemort's tasted his return twice now, getting even closer this time than the last. There's no question that he's going to try again." Harry hugged her arms to her chest. "When Hermione finished him in the Shack… I heard him; heard his silent promise. He means to capture me, Gin. He means to turn me into something like him. He means to _keep_ me… like a pet. Failing that… he'll do everything in his power to permanently end me. He's… fixated."

"We'll win," whispered Ginny, giving Harry's shoulders a cajoling shake. "We'll fight and we'll win. We'll _always_ win."

"You don't know that. And that's why… that's why I want something _more._ I'm not exactly afraid to die … and I'm certainly not resigned to it… but if I _do_ go, I'd rather not kick the bucket without first experiencing something better. If I agree to this, if I agree to be satisfied longing for you day and night, I'll lose any hope of finding it."

"Something _better?_ How can you say that? What's better than what we have right now?"

"What my Mum and Dad had was better. What your parents _still_ have is better. I want that, Gin. I _need_ it."

Ginny bit her lip. Her fingers fell to the collar of Harry's tank-top where they hung precariously, dragging the green fabric down to reveal the topmost half of her bra. "Why are you so… Why are you _so_ fixated on…_ sex_? Is it really that important to you?"

"I don't care about sex," muttered Harry, her cheeks burning red-hot as Ginny's thumb traced the lining of her undergarment. "I want… I want _passion._ Flamel told me it took true, _passionate_ love to rip you out of Tom's body. Love for _me_. And yet… you continue to insist it isn't there. You insist you don't feel it."

"He was talking about my grief, Harry. You know that."

"Do I?"

Suddenly feeling very brave, Harry lightly guided Ginny's hand away from her shirt and up to her mouth. Into the palm, she pressed a single, solitary kiss. It was neither heated, nor hungry, but it held within it every ounce of her love and desire.

Ginny's supple lips formed a small 'o' of surprise and a shiver ran up her arm.

Harry drew back, gently closing the girl's fingers. "I don't care how you go about it… but I want you to make me feel what you just felt. Show me passion, Ginny."

"What? But… I'm not… I don't-"

"Show me. Right here. Right now. If you can't, then this argument is over and done with."

Harry waited with baited breath as Ginny stuttered listlessly. She knew that heedless of whatever happened next, their relationship was about to take on new form.

_Please…_

_Show me._

Ginny's expression became increasingly conflicted with every passing second, until finally...

"You can't make me do this!" moaned the redhead, voice breaking in a soft sob. "It's not fair! I don't want to choose between giving you away and… and…"

On the verge of tears, bidding farewell to her last sliver of hope that her friend might one day return her feelings, Harry slumped against the rocks.

"Sounds like a choice to me."

Ginny's eyes went very round. "No! That wasn't… _I didn't!_"

"I'm sorry… but you did."

"I take it back then!" The freckled girl fumbled desperately for Harry's hand. "Let me take it back! I can show you! I can-"

Without warning, Ginny stopped speaking. Her gold-flecked gaze had flicked upward, drawn to a point high over Harry's left shoulder. With a nervous gasp, she stumbled away through the water, breaking their intimate proximity.

Turning on the spot, Harry followed Ginny's line of sight.

Like a bomb falling from the sky, a broom dropped through the treetops, its rider cursing at the branches with some of the most colorful language she'd ever heard.

Ron, in all his handsome and ill-timed glory, swooped down into the clearing.

"What the _bloody_ hell do you two think you're doing? I've been looking for you everywhere! It's nearly eight o'clock! You _know_ how Mum gets after eight, Ginny!"

Hastily wiping at her eyes, Harry adopted a friendly smile that she hoped looked somewhat real. "Two months and I don't even get a proper hello? Thanks, Ron. I feel loved."

The lanky boy's ears turned bright pink. "Oh… right. Sorry, Harry, I just-"

"Yeah yeah. Get down here and give me a hug."

Hopping from Harry's old Nimbus, Ron splashed down into the water and swept her up in a warm, twirling embrace that helped to lessen the hurt of what had just occurred.

Once she was back on the ground, she measured the top of her head against his chest and was more than a bit disgusted to see that she barely reached the bottom of his sternum. "That can't be right. Have you _really_ grown a full inch since last I saw you?"

"Nah… you're just getting shorter, mate." Ron ruffled her hair playfully. "Oh and before I forget… Happy Birthday! Your cake looks great, no thanks to GinBug here. Decorated it me'self."

Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Alright, fine. Mum did most of it, but _I_ put the candles in."

"Must've been difficult."

"Oh it was. I slaved for hours. It almost- Oi!"

Ginny had snatched the broom from Ron's hands. She quickly mounted and kicked off, shooting into the air.

"Get back here, Gin! I was supposed to bring us _all_ back on that!"

Ignoring her brother, Ginny rocketed away, soaring cleanly through the green ceiling, upwards and out of sight.

"That's just perfect," grumbled Ron, staring up at the Ginny-shaped hole in the leaves, his expression a mixture of annoyance and concern. "She's been like this for ages… but I honestly thought her mood would improve with you here."

Heart thudding heavily against her ribs, Harry averted her eyes. "We didn't exactly have the happiest of reunions."

"What do you mean? Why not?"

Unable to tell him the truth, but unwilling to lie, she oversimplified. "Just a row. Girl stuff, you know?"

The tall redhead groaned. "Can you sort it quickly as a favor to me? If Ginny's behavior doesn't shape up, Mum's not going to let her go to the tournament with you."

Harry sagged with misery. She hadn't known that.

Walking over to Ginny's rock, Ron scooped up the Looking Glass, and peered into its depths. "I was really looking forward to a few weeks without siblings around to bother me. Percy doesn't count of course because… well… he's Percy."

Ron's words were given new context when the slab in his hands came alive, casting a soft glow over the ever-darkening clearing. Harry couldn't see what the stone held from this angle, but the sound of Hermione's firm lecturing was unmistakable. The boy's true intentions were obvious; what he _really_ wanted was to spend some time alone with their bushy-haired friend.

"Seems like everyone's arrived," said Ron jauntily as the light of the Looking Glass faded. "Let's get a move on, mate. They're already setting the tables."

"Great," muttered Harry, doing her best to muster up some of her lost enthusiasm. "Can't wait."

0000

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0000

Pansy's breath hitched as the bright lights, intoxicating smells, and boisterous atmosphere of the Place de Sorcellerie laid siege to her senses. Even though her mother had taught her that outwardly expressing one's delight in public was unbefitting of a proper, well-bred witch, she simply couldn't stop herself from openly marveling at the festive environment.

It was unlike anything she'd ever seen. On every corner, illusionists wove elaborate spectacles of smoke and fire to please the passing masses. Teams of musicians roamed the streets, serenading couples for coin. Lining the sidewalks, booth merchants advertising their wares were locked in vocal battle with the peddlers on either side, their screamed deals blurring together beneath the resounding din from the crowd.

It went on and on for what seemed like miles, and at the very end, sparkling in the distance, sat the glittering palace of Beauxbatons.

"I've never seen you looking so…_enthralled,_" breathed a voice, hot and heavy against her neck. "By the Gods… is Pansy Parkinson actually _enjoying_ herself?"

Draco's hands slipped around her waist. His fingers lightly circled the silk fabric above her bellybutton, sending shivers of pleasure rocketing up and down her spine.

"What do _you_ care?" she muttered harshly. "We're _not_ on a date. It was made perfectly clear this morning that my coming along was your father's idea."

Draco pressed his body into her back. "Oh dear… Did I give you the impression that I didn't want you here? Who do you think it was who suggested to my father that socially presenting our union might secure the other branches of your family as potential business partners?"

Pansy let out a soft moan as she felt his growing arousal digging into her bum. "If that's true, then… then why didn't you say anything?"

"I just did," he drawled smarmily, touching his lips to the back of her ear. "By the way… this backless gown looks positively hideous on you. I demand that you take it off at once."

Just hearing his desire made her knees buckle. It had been weeks since they had last spent a night together and the naughtier part of her brain was urging her to turn round, strip him down, and dominate him in the middle of the crowded street.

Reaching back between their bodies, she gave his bulge a discreet pat and whispered, "As much as I'd like to, these foreigners take everything far too seriously… and that includes being punctual. Arriving late will give the wrong impression, possibly endangering the alliance."

"Why should that matter to us?" grumbled Draco, his husky voice suddenly turning steely. "When the time comes, all the wealth my father has amassed will go to the Dark Lord. _We'll_ be on the run. We'll be… _poor._"

As much as that thought distressed her, Pansy spun in her fiancé's embrace, leaned onto her tiptoes, and massaged a soothing kiss into his pursed lips.

When they finally broke apart for air, she straightened his silk cravat and said calmly, "Nothing good will come from brooding over something that hasn't happened yet. Right now, I'm more worried about your mother's wrath. Pull yourself together and let's be off."

Draco nodded, but continued to look sullen as they made their way down the street, heading towards the magnificent palace.

As they got closer, Pansy spotted an increasing number of couples in dress robes, all walking in the same direction.

"Just how many people are attending this party, anyway?"

Draco shrugged, a slight smirk eating away at the frown he had been sporting all day. "Oh… a few hundred maybe?"

She gasped, stopping dead in her tracks. "A few… A few _hundred?_"

"Well… yes… It _is_ the French Minister's Birthday after all. Didn't I mention that?"

Pansy dug her nails into his arm. "No, you absolutely _didn't!_ You said I should wear whatever I liked! You said it would only be friends and family!"

"We're Malfoys," he said smugly. "Every government employee with pockets to be lined is our friend."

"_Damn't_, Draco! Why in Merlin's name would you let me wear this gown? Now I'm going to be ogled and groped all night by sloshed Ministry workers!"

"Don't worry," he mumbled, pulling her towards the towering hedge that separated the bustling market from the school. "I won't let anyone touch you."

Pansy opened her mouth to object, but temporarily lost her ability to speak when they passed through a leafy archway and emerged into open air.

Beauxbatons was even more beautiful up close. While not as large as Hogwarts, it was infinitely more appealing to the eye. Where Hogwarts had rolling, untamed grounds, Beauxbatons had twinkling gardens of fairy-lit roses and massive fountains of shimmering crystal. Where Hogwarts had gothic spires and intimidating turrets, Beauxbatons had arched glass windows that shone like diamonds in the moonlight, intricate domes of buttressed marble, the largest of which rose into the sky like a many-tiered wedding cake, and decorative crenellations that made the whole castle seem more like art than architecture.

Masterfully crafted effigies of famous witches and wizards lined the cobbled walkway that led to the palace's glittering golden doors. With polite greetings of 'Bienvenue,' each statue bowed graciously to the guests that passed it by.

Draco sniffed haughtily as one stone bust even went so far as to compliment his outfit.

"I'd forgotten how much I despise this place. It's _so_ ostentatious. Not to mention the Headmistress is half-giant. Why would your cousin actually _choose_ to attend a school like this?

"Second cousin," corrected Pansy, gazing around at the breathtaking gardens. "And your guess is as good as mine. I've only met her once. My mother's extended family lives in Iceland, so it's not like we correspond on a regular basis."

"Well, I know for a fact that there's a magic academy in Iceland. It's small, but perfectly well-established. They host the Reykjavik Five-Hundred. Why not go there instead?"

"Mother's cousin is a liaison for the French Ministry. Perhaps he wanted his daughter to-"

Pansy was interrupted as six colossal pairs of wings swooped over their heads, drawing excited shouts from the surrounding party-goers.

"Pegasi?" grumbled Draco incredulously. "Are these people _really_ that desperate to impress? What's next… a chimera that juggles? Come on, Pans. Let's find my parents, get the required mingling over with, and catch the first portkey back to Britain."

Taking her hand in a surprisingly gentle grip, he dragged her into the crowd.

Pansy let the blonde boy do the searching. She was far more interested in the party itself, particularly in the anthropomorphous army of bronze butlers weaving through the sea of guests, bearing silver trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres.

"There they are," said Draco finally, pointing towards the buffet table. "It seems Father has already managed to weed out your family. Unsurprising, really. If I didn't know you… and if you hadn't dyed your hair… I'd probably mistake that girl as your sister."

The resemblance was indeed striking. With light blue eyes, honey-blonde hair, high cheekbones, and a sumptuous chest, Cousin Marin had all the staple traits of females from her mother's line.

Pansy found the whole thing terribly unfair. Marin's trademarked Selwyn beauty hadn't been sullied by the iconic Parkinson nose.

Narcissa, looking far more sour than usual, beckoned them over. "At last. I hope you have a good explanation for your tardiness, Draco."

"It's not our fault, Mother," lied Draco smoothly. "The _entirety_ of the Midgen clan arrived at the Portkey Office ahead of us. They were only headed to Dublin, but it took them half-an-hour just to fill out the paperwork."

Lucius cleared his throat pointedly and directed their attention to the family of three standing at his side. "Jared… Freyja… might I introduce our son, Draco. As Rose surely mentioned in her letters, he and your cousin's daughter are engaged to be married."

Not missing a beat, Pansy made a subtle point of flashing the garish diamond ring Narcissa had stuffed unceremoniously onto her gloved finger not two hours previous.

With a small smile, Lucius continued. "Long have the Selwyns, Parkinsons, Malfoys, and Blacks been allies, but with this union, the bloodlines of England's last great wizarding families will finally merge. With your support, both moral and financial, our combined influence will rival that of the British Minister himself."

Jared Selwyn, a thickset man whose bulging muscles were barely contained by his dress robes, slowly held out his large hand for Lucius to shake. "Seeing Pansy and your son together inclines me to put my reservations aside. We are family now, já? There can be no distrust between family. With a solid rapport established between us, I am certain that the diplomatic relations of our respective governments will only strengthen. You have convinced me, Lucius."

The conversation quickly dissolved into talks of a political nature. Fully prepared for a lengthy stretch of boredom, Pansy was rather stunned when a distraction immediately presented itself in the form of her second cousin. The girl was staring at her with an unintelligible expression, and when Pansy met her gaze head on, Marin strode forward, breaking away from her parents.

"Frænka… Pansy… might I be speaking with you in private?"

It was unnerving to hear such friendly familiarity from the blonde. Four years ago, when they had met for the first time, Marin had barely spoken a word to her.

"Oh… I suppose that's… well, yes… of course."

The short seventeen-year-old looped an arm through Pansy's and led her away from the group. "It has been long since I see you, Frænka. I hope we can be speaking more, now that my English has improved. Papa likes to say the bond of family… Það er…_ mjög máli_… very important.

"I suppose it _has_ been quite awhile," agreed Pansy noncommittally, feeling confused as to why she was being dragged out of the crowd. "In the future, perhaps we should try to find time to send each other the occasional letter?"

Marin nodded, tugging her towards a large fountain outside the perimeter of the garden party. "Já. That would be nice. We must get to know each other better. After all, when you arrived… I almost not recognize you without the blonde curls."

"I do look different, don't I?" Pansy reached up and awkwardly smoothed her short, black bangs. "In truth, I only changed it for Draco. He was attracted to a girl with black hair... and I… I didn't like watching him lust after her. This travesty of fashion was a small price to pay for finally getting his attention."

"Nonsense. You look good with the darker hair. Perhaps I will color my own. I am tiring of blonde. Do you think red would suit me?"

The seemingly innocent question was left lingering without an answer, for the instant they were hidden behind the enormous fountain, Marin spun, fluidly drawing a wand from her cleavage of all places.

It seemed that expertly masking one's true emotions was a Selwyn family trait as well. Gone were her cousin's cheerful smile and pleasant mannerisms. Gone was the pretense of close kinship.

"Marin… what-"

"_Shut your mouth!"_ snarled the older girl furiously, her Icelandic accent thickening. "You do not _speak_ to me!"

"But I-"

With two quick flicks of the wand, Pansy was silenced and frozen in place. She tried to cry out, tried to break free from the magic restraining her, but it was no use; the charms were flawless and powerful to boot.

Sneering menacingly, Marin grabbed Pansy by the jaw and squeezed with strength uncharacteristic of her small frame.

"Open your ears, _drusla!_ I have message for you! It is message to your _filthy_ papa! You will tell him the Memory Charm broke! You will tell him I remember the lecherous touches he made me forget! You will tell him I remember and will _never_ forgive! You will tell him… You will tell him if he show face in front of me again, I will _kill_ him! There will be no hesitating; no regret! _Do I make clear?_"

Terror-stricken, but unable to speak or move, Pansy did her utmost to convey with her eyes that she understood.

"_Good,_" hissed the blonde through gritted teeth. "Although small part of me would enjoy doing to _you_ what _he_ did to _me_… I am not so cruel. I want you to go now. You will deliver my warning. You will leave my school and never-"

"Marinella? _Mon dieu!_ Qu'est-ce tu fais?"

Tapping Pansy on the cheek to negate the spells, Marin shoved her to the ground, spat at her feet, and stalked back to the party without another word.

As Pansy lay splayed across the cobbled stone attempting to wrap her head around what had just occurred, a shiny pair of silver high heels appeared in her field of vision. Gentle hands lifted her up, helping her to her feet.

"Est-ce que vous allez bien? Êtes-vous blessée?"

Blood was dribbling down her arm from a nasty-looking scrape and her composure was wearing thin. The last thing Pansy needed right now was a pushy French do-gooder meddling in her family's private affairs.

"I don't speak French," she said with an air of curt dismissal. "Sorry."

"Ah… en anglais… _euh_… You are _alright_, non? You are not 'urt?"

"I'm fine, thank you. I just need to… to…"

Pansy trailed off as she got a good look at her timely rescuer.

Standing in front of her, draped in a flowing slip of a gown that clung in all the right places, was a tall, platinum-haired, _indescribably_ gorgeous young woman. With a face and body that put Madame Dupont's to shame, the girl was, in a word, perfect. So perfect in fact, that as ludicrous as the thought was, Pansy was momentarily convinced that she was gazing not upon a human being, but upon the Goddess Aphrodite herself.

"It was good zat I chose _zis_ fountain to 'ide from ze drunken men," purred the French beauty. "Anozer moment and she likely would 'ave 'exed you. I would know best. To ze girls zat break 'er 'eart, little Marin can be most… _foul_. Even now, she will not forgive me for rejecting 'er affections in our fourth year."

It took several long seconds for the meaning of that statement to sink in, but when it did, Pansy reddened.

"I'm afraid you've got it wrong," she muttered, severely irked by the mere idea of being romantically involved with another woman. "That… _bitch…_ is my second cousin. We were… We were only talking."

The tall blonde gave her an odd look. "It did not seem like ze friendliest of talks."

"Well, that's because it wasn't. Now… if you'll excuse me."

"Un moment, mademoiselle. Let me see your arm. You are bleeding and I am quite skilled in ze art of 'ealing."

"_I told you,_" snapped Pansy, jerking her wrist away from the proffered wandtip. "_I'm fine!_ If you _really_ want to help me, then go find the Malfoy family and let them know that I'm leaving."

"Ze Malfoys? Oui, I know of zem. But I cannot be relaying zis message without first knowing your name."

"It's Pansy. Pansy Parkinson. Now _please,_ just… _just leave me alone!_"

After a moment's pause, the platinum-haired girl huffed disdainfully and walked off, muttering to herself in rapid French.

When the _clickety-clack_ of high-heels finally faded amongst the party's raucous din, Pansy let her walls of apathy come tumbling down. Clutching her head and sinking to her haunches, she tried to block out the images of a ravaged Lavender Brown that besieged her mind's eye.

_Father… you would never do something like that. I know you wouldn't._

_She's wrong._

_She's lying._

_Marin's lying…_

_Isn't she?_

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"Ron… lend me a jumper. I'm freezing."

"But Mione… won't _I_ be freezing if I lend you my jumper?"

"You're wearing three of them, you prat!"

Ron grinned as the bushy-haired girl huddled into his side to shield herself from the biting cold. "I suppose I _could_ spare you one. Then again… you _swore_ you'd be warm enough. I mean… you read in your book that Durmstrang's quidditch stadium is enchanted with year-round heating charms."

"And that information was perfectly accurate! Just because they've canceled them to give their team an advantage doesn't mean-"

"Sweet Merlin these jumpers are cozy! Oi, Perce! Fancy an extra layer?"

"Oh for heaven's sake!" huffed Hermione, slapping his arm. "I was _wrong_, alright? I admit it! Now _please!_ Do you _want_ me to die from frostbite?"

Chuckling, Ron tugged off his two outermost knits and helped the shivering girl pull them over her head. Once her arms were through the sleeves, he ran his hands up and down her shoulders to speed the warming process.

"Better?"

Hermione smiled gratefully, her sparkling-white, perfectly-straight teeth no longer chattering. "B-Better."

For a split-second, Ron was gripped by an urge to lean down and capture her slightly-purpled lips in a kiss, but seeing Sirius, Luna, his mother, his father, his brother, and his thoroughly dejected sister squeezed in around them, he immediately thought better of it.

Something akin to disappointment flashed in Hermione's chocolaty eyes, and with a light sigh, she turned back to the match.

"That Selwyn girl is shockingly good with a broom, isn't she? Look there… Harry's having trouble keeping pace."

Wishing he had a pair of Omnioculars, Ron squinted up at the blurred streaks comprised of Harry and her Beauxbatons counterpart.

Ginny, who Ron had thought was ignoring the game out of spite, chimed in rather bitterly, "Marin's a fair flier, sure, but she's missed at least three opportunities on the snitch. Not much point in being a Seeker if you can't catch, is there?"

The crowd roared its approval as one of the twins sent a bludger straight into the Beauxbatons Keeper's gut, allowing Angelina's lobbed quaffle to sail unhindered through the center ring.

Hermione tugged his arm. "If Gryffindor wins this match, Hogwarts will play Durmstrang in the final, yes?"

"Durmstrang or Salem," replied Ron. "You never know. The yanks might miraculously pull off a win."

"But you think that's unlikely, yes?"

"Well… yeah. Durmstrang has Krum. And Krum's the best Seeker in the world."

"He can't be _that_ good," sniffed Hermione. "Harry said Durmstrang lost to Zanjiri College in the first match of the tournament and that all the other teams beat Zanjiri soundly."

Ron's eyes bulged in disbelief. "That's probably because he wasn't even trying! Krum plays for Bulgaria, Mione! They're ranked third in the International League!"

"So?"

"So that obviously makes him-"

Everyone around them collectively gasped.

Harry was in a nose dive. She was hurtling downward through the center of the game, her blonde competitor in hot pursuit.

There, a hundred yards below, hovering just a few feet above the snow-covered earth, was the snitch.

"Come on, Harry!" shouted Hermione, bouncing up and down on her toes. "Go!"

Ron was less inclined to cheer. With the golden orb so close to the bottom of the pitch, he had a vague idea of what the reckless girl might try to do. She had done it before for lower stakes.

Twenty feet from the snitch, the Beauxbatons Seeker pulled up, decelerating from the breakneck dive, obviously expecting that Harry would do the same. But of course, Harry didn't. Her hand closed around her prize and at the very last second, she wrenched her Firebolt parallel to the ground, performing a full emergency stop.

The broom froze, but Harry's body kept going, albeit at a much reduced speed. She hit the snow with a dull thud, sending a cloud of white powder flying into the air.

The first semifinal match had ended. Hogwarts had won by a landslide.

Leaving the rest of their group behind, Ron muscled his way through the rowdy spectators, heading for the stairs that led down to the field. When he finally arrived at Harry's point of impact, a small circle of players and medi-witches had formed a protective ring.

Squeezing through the gap made by the shoulders of Fred and a burly Beauxbatons Beater, he saw her.

Harry lay unconscious in the snow with her knee bent at a highly unnatural angle.

Ron didn't quite know how she had managed it, but Ginny had gotten there even faster than he had. She was cradling the raven-haired girl's head in her lap, glaring daggers at anyone that dared approach.

The healer who had been pouring over Harry with her wand stood, shouted several orders in her native Scandinavian tongue, and then addressed the circle in heavily-accented English. "Broken leg and concussion. Move away, please."

Ron locked eyes with Oliver Wood who was standing behind Ginny on the other side of the ring. With a covert gesture and a worried glance at his youngest sibling, he attempted to convey to Oliver what was about to happen and what might be done to prevent it.

Wood thankfully seemed to understand. Drawing his wand, Oliver tapped Ginny on the head, binding her in place right as the healers moved to extract Harry from her arms.

The crowd's telltale roar echoed over the stadium once again. High above their heads, seven streaks of black zoomed though the air in perfect diamond formation, circling the snowy pitch like hungry birds of prey.

Durmstrang had made their first appearance of the day. Even at this distance, Krum could be seen leading the pack, his expression sharp and focused. If the International Quidditch star had decided to play seriously, then the upcoming match against Salem wasn't even worth watching. It would be over in minutes.

Hoisting Ginny's petrified form over his shoulder, Ron lugged his sister off the field. Falling behind the rest of the team, he slowly made his way out of the arena and towards the cluster of massive tents erected to house visiting teams and their supporters.

Despite being knocked out of the running in the days previous, hundreds of young players from all over the world still milled about the tents, laughing and making merry, proudly sharing their culture and love of quidditch with their neighbors. Helped along by exorbitant quantities of spiked butterbeer and near-constant jaunty music, the excitement permeating the air was almost tangible.

It was like one giant party, and even though he had been deeply disturbed by the amount of money Harry had been willing to spend for seven seats in the top box during the semifinal and final matches, Ron was grateful to be part of it.

At the center of the tents, there blazed a three-story bonfire, beating back the chill for half a mile in every direction. Around it, Aztlan University's representative team was having what looked to be a raucous drinking competition with anyone brave enough to take them on. Ron was half-tempted to join in, but first he had to deliver Ginny.

Hogwarts' pavilion was located at the very back of the bunch, nestled at the base of the mountain range that hid Castle Durmstrang from prying eyes. Inside, the post-win celebration was in full swing. The members of the Gryffindor squad were being swarmed by friends, family, and even individuals from teams they had already beaten. In the heart of the crowd, Luna was single-handedly attempting to start some sort of group dance that involved copious amounts of twirling.

Spotting Hermione sitting at a table in the far corner, he walked over, and plopped his immobile sister down onto the bench.

"What have you _done_ to her?" asked the bushy-haired girl, fussing over Ginny like a mother hen.

"Nothing but save her from causing a whole mess of trouble. And _I_ didn't do it. Wood did."

Ginny glared up at him, promising him pain and suffering with naught but her eyes.

Reaching out, he tweaked her nose. "Calm down. Harry will be fine. The healers up at the castle will have her fixed up in no time flat. You can yell at me all you'd like when she gets back."

"I'm a bit jealous," said Hermione airily. "Foreigners are so rarely given the chance to see Durmstrang from the inside."

Ron snorted. "Well… if it's anything like the outside, you probably aren't missing much. With all of Malfoy's talk about Durmstrang being a better school than Hogwarts, I didn't expect it to look so shabby."

"It's the world's oldest surviving school of magic. Be fair."

"_Fair?_ Mione… I live in a house made up of eight cottages stacked atop the other and held together by magic. When I say something looks shabby, it looks bloody shabby."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If the rumors are true and Morgana really did have a hand in Durmstrang's founding, then this castle was completed sometime in the early medieval period. Building in the Romanesque style was, at the time, the gold-standard of modern architecture. Before the dawn of the second millennium, it would have seemed a marvel to all who saw it."

Squeezing into the seat next to her, Ron gave the girl's leg a playful nudge with his knee. "I'm almost afraid to ask which book you got that from. Just a bit of light reading, right?"

"Oh shut up. Can't you go a single day without teasing me?"

"I can probably manage a few hours… but a whole day? I dunno."

Instead of shooting him the exasperated look Ron was expecting, Hermione grinned and leaned sideways, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Well… that's good enough for now, I suppose."

Ron turned his neck ever-so-slightly, touching his chin into her feather-soft hair. In that instant, as he breathed in the hints of toffee-apple wafting from Hermione's locks, he was reminded of another girl with whom he had shared a similar moment; reminded of the tears she had shed on her birthday of all days.

**/FLASHBACK/**

"Harry? Where'd you go, mate? I've got your drink."

"Up here."

Ron stepped off the porch and turned.

Harry was sitting on the roof of the kitchen, legs dangling over the edge. She daintily patted the shingles at her side.

"Come on. Your mum said it's the best spot in the house to watch fireworks."

"Aye, it's not bad. Ginny and I would climb up when we were little, but that was mainly because we couldn't see over the garden hedge. How's it look from there? See everything alright?"

The corners of her lips twitched. "Are you insinuating something about my height, Ron? _Again?_"

"Off your chump, you are. I'd _never_ do something like that."

"Git."

Using one hand to steady himself and the other to cradle the two open bottles of butterbeer, Ron clambered onto the roof of the kitchen via a makeshift stepladder of barrels and bins.

"Wow… I haven't done this in ages."

"Fire Snap?" offered Harry quietly, holding out a bag of small red sweets as Ron sat down beside her. "They're from Remus."

"Yeah, alright. Trade you."

Handing her the drink, Ron picked one of the unfamiliar candies from the bag and popped it into his mouth.

Immediately, his taste buds began to scream their protest. It was like sucking on the insides of a hot pepper.

"Quick," said Harry. "Say something, anything."

"What?"

The word left him quite literally. In a spurt of painless flame, fiery letters spelling 'what' erupted from his mouth, sailing into the night sky. They burned brightly, dancing on the breeze, only to vanish seconds later in a tiny puff of smoke.

"That was brutal," coughed Ron, pounding his chest. The sweet resting on his tongue had all but lost its kick, reverting to a simple ball of sugar. "You could've warned me."

"Payback for calling me short."

"No sense getting miffed. You _are_ short. You're a certifiable midget. Even Ginny has an inch on you." Ron scanned the ground below, searching for his sister among the rest of his family as they milled about the garden, clearing away decorations. "Speaking of Ginny, she disappeared right after dinner. Where's she gone off to now?"

Harry jerked her thumb at the top of the house.

He twisted and looked up. High above them, framed in the dark of Ginny's bedroom window, he saw the shadowy outline of a body leaning against the glass.

"Must have been some row you had out in the forest."

Her expression gaunt, Harry contemplated a Fire Snap, rolling it between her fingers before finally bringing it to her lips.

"Yeah."

Ron frowned at the flaming letters as they hung in the air, casting the black-haired girl's delicate features into stark relief. Such a simple reply really had no business being enigmatic.

Harry plucked another Fire Snap from the bag, but this time, instead of eating it herself, she tossed it over the edge of the roof. As soon as it hit the ground, Crookshanks' lightning-quick silhouette darted from the bushes. The cat snapped up the sweet and disappeared twice as fast.

"That ugly little bugger has been following you about all night. I think he's finally taken a shine to you."

"No…" said Harry softly, "it's more like… he's watching me."

Before Ron could ask her what she meant, all the lights around the Burrow winked out. One of twins, he couldn't tell which, leapt onto the paddock fence and began to shout.

"Ladies and Gentleman! May we-"

"_Oi!_ You didn't include Percy, George!"

"Merlin's beard, you're right!" George cleared his throat and started again. "Ladies, Gentleman, and Percy! May we have your attention please? On this very special day, Fred the Magnificent-"

Fred cut in. "-and George the Not-Quite-As-Magnificent-But-Still-Pretty-Good are proud to present to you the greatest fireworks celebration this muddy stretch of moor has ever seen!"

Ron heard his mother moan from the garden below.

"Not to worry, Madam!" said George with a flourish. "We couldn't afford anything too destructive! Made most of it ourselves!"

Fred scratched his chin. "Now that I think about it, we probably added too much Doxy venom to the-"

George clapped a hand over his twin's mouth. "A very Happy Birthday to our favorite specky strumpet! This is our gift to you!" He turned and shouted into the pitch-black field. "LIGHT 'EM UP, SIRIUS!"

Harry grabbed Ron's arm and pulled it around her waist as the first of the fireworks shot into the endless sky, exploding in plumes of multi-colored sparks to form the letters 'H' and 'P'. She leaned into him, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder.

Although it was indeed a spectacular show, having the attractive girl so close made paying attention to the twins' display a very difficult task. The feel of her slim body and the pleasant piney smell of her messy hair made his head spin. With every explosion, her chest would heave, her tank-top would rise, and Ron would be rewarded with a short glimpse of her belly button.

It wasn't until the finale, when the last of the fireworks had gone off to much cheering and Harry's chest _continued_ to heave that Ron realized something was amiss.

"You alright, mate?" Placing his hands on either side of her head, he tilted her face into the moonlight.

Her emerald eyes shimmered with moisture. Her alabaster cheeks were puffy and red.

"_Harry!?_ What's wrong!?"

The girl sniffled and attempted to hide her crying visage behind trembling fingers. "I… I… I g-gave her an ul-ulti-ultimatum and sh-she… and she… and she d-d-didn't…"

Ron used his thumbs to wipe at Harry's wet cheeks as she dissolved into a fresh wave of tears.

"Is this about Ginny?"

Harry nodded into Ron's hand.

"Anything I can do?"

She slowly shook her head. "E-Even if I a-asked… you w-wouldn't say yes."

"I might."

"You w-won't. Y-You're in l-lov-"

"Harry? Ron? Is everything okay up there?"

Ron looked down. Hermione was standing on the porch, squinting up at them, clearly concerned.

"We're fine, Mione. I've got her."

"Can I… _help?_"

"Yeah. A spot of tea, maybe?"

"Absolutely. Hold on." The bushy-haired girl hurried into the kitchen.

Ron turned back to Harry, who was glaring at the shingles on the side of the house, most likely in an attempt to hide her face from everyone below.

"You were saying?"

"F-Forget it," she whispered brokenly. "I'm f-fine. I j-just n-need a minute."

**/END/**

Ron sighed into Hermione's hair. That and a short goodbye early the next day had been the last things Harry had said to him before shipping off to the tournament with Fred and George.

He'd had no luck trying to ask Ginny what had happened, and not for lack of trying. Upon learning that Mum wasn't letting her go with Harry, instead of begging, raging, and throwing a tantrum of massive proportions, his sister had silently ascended the stairs to her room. She'd gone to bed, and had refused to get out of it until yesterday morning when Harry's bundle of tickets had arrived.

Ron chanced a glance at Ginny. Even though she was frozen, he could tell from the look in her downcast eyes that she was distraught; far more distraught than anxiety over Harry's crash could have made her.

He leaned down to whisper in Hermione's ear. "Harry and Gin… what do you think they did to each other?"

Hermione tilted her head so her voice was muffled by his shirt. "I don't know, Ron. Leave it alone. They'll work it out."

"But what if-"

"Leave it!" she hissed, pinching his leg. "Deal with your own can of worms before you try to open theirs."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Hermione sat up, fixing him with a very pointed stare. _"'__I don't know. And I don't care. I don't __care __anymore, Mione. I just… I want to…'"_ She scooted closer along the bench. "What exactly did you want to do, Ron?"

Feeling himself flush, Ron stood and hastily tried to come up with a reason to excuse himself. "I'm going to go and… and get a bathroom. I mean butterbeer! I meant I'm going to the butterbeer. I mean bathroom! I mean… I…"

Swallowing nervously, he walked away and didn't look back.

0000

0000

0000

0000

Harry came to with a startled gasp, sitting bolt upright. The first thing she noticed upon regaining her faculties was that, wherever she was, it was quite dark. A large six-tiered candle chandelier floated in the rafters above, but only the bottommost circle was lit, giving off very little light.

The second thing she noticed was something hot, fleshy, and wet lapping at her toes. It wasn't the first time she had felt it on her skin.

Jerking away the sheet that was covering her lower body, Harry scowled at the large black dog sitting at the foot of her uncomfortable slab of a bed.

"Do you know how disgusting that is?"

The dog licked its nose and padded around the edge of mattress, transforming midstride.

"Sorry, lass," said Sirius, tapping the side of his head. "If I stay in animal form for more than a few hours at a time, the old noodle goes a bit… doggish. Can't be helped."

"Sucking toes can't be helped? _Blegh._ A big no thank you to life as a dog."

"Oh… it's not so bad. You taste things differently. Back when I was in school, Rosy used to let me-"

Harry cut him off. "Let's pause and pose a hypothetical, shall we? Let's assume for a moment that I'm more like my Mum than my Dad. Is this a story you'd be comfortable telling Lily?"

Sirius' mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

"Potter to control. Story-telling boundaries have been established. We are now go for liftoff. Commencing proper godfather behavior in three, two, one."

Sirius raised an amused eyebrow. "Go for _liftoff?_"

Harry shrugged. "While other children had slumber parties, I was lucky enough to spend Saturday night in my cupboard, re-pinning my knickers to the soothing sounds of the telly I was forbidden watch. Every little girl's dream, right?"

Smiling dolefully, he squeezed her knee. "No, don't do that. It's a tempting path… but making light of things that you aren't yet ready to deal with just turns you bitter. Trust me. I know all-"

The curtains around the bed snapped open.

An attractive, dark-haired medi-witch dressed in a plain, form-fitting habit stood before them. She was staring at Sirius with the same dumbfounded look Professor Binns would give Hermione whenever she raised her hand in class… as if he wasn't quite sure she was real.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Ah… yes… before you doth protest on my presence, beautiful Madam, let me remind you that you did, _technically_, allow me to accompany my goddaughter." He quickly reverted to his dog form and back.

"I see," said the woman, eying him shrewdly. "Vell then… let me remind _you_ that you have broken the agreements made by your Ministry. Ve were promised by all nations that no foreigner, save for those in need of medical care, vould step foot inside this castle. I could have you locked avay for your trespass."

"Locked away, eh? Bondage isn't really my bag, but with the right person… I might consider it."

Sirius winked at the healer, who became very flustered.

"I… I do not have time for this. There are other patients who need my attention. You may vait for this one in the hall. Leave us, before I change my mind."

Transforming once again, Sirius barked happily and scampered through the curtain, wagging his tail at just the right moment so as to firmly smack the healer's bum.

Cheeks flushed, the woman approached Harry, drawing two small potions from her sleeve. "Drink these and you may go. The final match vill be starting vithin the hour. Your belongings are in the cabinet there."

"Alright," said Harry, downing each bottle of foul liquid in one gulp. She dressed quickly, pretending not to notice the way the healer was hovering on the other side of the curtain instead of attending to the 'other patients'.

_Oh dear… Here we go again._

Strapping on the last of her gear and preparing herself for utter mortification, Harry picked up her broom, took a deep breath, and stepped out.

"Good luck today," said the still-blushing medi-witch. "You vill need it. Viktor Krum and the Durmstrang Carrions make a formidable team."

"Yeah. Thanks for fixing me up." Harry attempted to squeeze by her, but the woman blocked her path.

"By the vay, that man… your godfather… he is… he is…"

"Available?" finished Harry helpfully, not quite able to believe she was having this conversation. "I think so."

"So… if I vere to come looking, I vould find him at the Hogvarts tent?"

"I dunno. Probably. How do I get back to the pitch?"

The pretty healer pointed to the door. "Follow the corridor to the end. From there, a Tournament official vill guide you to the exit."

Harry scurried from the dark chamber as fast as her feet could carry her. She emerged into what would be better described as a dank, narrow tunnel rather than a corridor. Sirius was waiting for her, leaning against the wall in human form.

"Sirius… I know being a free man excites you… but was that really necessary?"

He grinned. "From your abashed expression, I can only assume that I have a date. Did you happen to catch her name?"

"No, I bloody didn't!" said Harry firmly. "When you flirt, could you please make sure I'm not around? When we went to Florean's for ice cream, two women, total strangers, were literally falling arse-over-elbow to get me to introduce you! It happened again in the Leaky Cauldron, and again at Gringotts!"

"What can I say, Harry? I've got animal magnetism."

"Exactly! It's like you're some… It's like you're some supercharged magnet that's been polarized to attract the opposite sex. I'm a little afraid to ask, but… how are you doing it?"

Sirius slung an arm over her shoulder as they walked down the tunnel. "You mean aside from putting my boyish charm and rugged good looks to work? Well… it's thanks to a combination of things really… and it only seems to reel in certain types of witches. First off, there's the media coverage. In the last month, who hasn't heard Rita Skeeter spinning the tale of Sirius Black, tragic hero wrongfully imprisoned for twelve long years? I'm a bona fide celebrity now. That tends to pull in the attention seekers."

He puffed out his chest. "Secondly, there's my public image. Be it either the aforementioned tragic persona, or the troublemaker I was at Hogwarts, my image draws in the girls who think they're going to suddenly fix all my problems with a little love and sexual healing."

Harry rolled her eyes.

"And last but not least… there's you. Ladies on the prowl for a sensitive man they can commit to can't seem to resist a single father caring for his children. I swear, Harry, it's like their Achilles heel. When they see us together, they swoon."

She snuggled into Sirius' side. "That's disturbing. Remind me to never go anywhere with you ever again."

His barking laughter ended in a sharp intake of breath. Having reached the end of the corridor, they had entered into a large, circular hall with a majestic stained-glass roof. The moving mural depicted in the glass showed a lone witch, nude as the day she was born, taming a sea of demonic shades.

"Morgana Victorious," muttered Sirius. "_Beautiful_. I'd heard it was here, but never really believed. Harry, you're looking at the last great work of art Morgan le Fay completed before losing her soul to Dementors, creatures thought to be of her own making."

Stepping out from beneath Sirius' arm, Harry walked forward a few paces, feeling very ill at ease. The mural, while impressive, failed to hold her attention. Around the edges of the circular hall, interspersed equidistant from the next, were twelve additional corridors leading away into darkness. She didn't know what it was, but something about them seemed strangely… _foreboding_.

"Did she not tell you the way out?" asked Sirius lightly.

Harry frowned. "No. Someone was supposed to be here to escort us. Can you remember where you came from when they brought me in?"

"A dog can only focus on so many things at once, and I was distracted by your injuries at the time. Not to worry though. You stay here while I pop back to ask our delicious healer friend for better directions. Might as well find out her name while I'm at it. Back in a mo'."

Not wanting to be left alone, Harry turned to stop him. However, when she saw what was gleaming above the corridor through which they had just emerged, her protest died in a weak, gurgled mumble.

It was a symbol of some sort… or perhaps a rune. Whatever it was, it was enormous. With an oval in its center and a single line dividing both shapes into equal halves, the massive triangle measured at least fifty feet high and wide. It had been carved deep into the rock, but not by any means Harry recognized. The gashes were shimmering; _dripping_ with effervescent light.

A single line of text was etched in a similar manner beneath the triangle's base, and although Harry's brain was telling her that it had been written in a language she didn't understand, English was what she saw.

Her lips haltingly formed the words and a flash of lightning refracted off the stained-glass ceiling, sending the hall into a brilliant wash of color.

"Now… I triumph… with infinite… time…"

Instead of thunder, a deep, rumbling voice answered the lightning's call. It crashed over the castle, vibrating the foundations, shaking Harry right down to her bones.

"_For I am the Master of Death."_

She drew her wand faster than the eye could blink, only to have it wrenched from her hand as soon as she'd raised it. The shaft of holly clattered away across the stone, rolling to a stop against the far wall.

Harry couldn't see him, but she sensed him; both his power and his presence. The air itself was vibrating with his magic.

When the skies calmed, the voice spoke again, but this time, as a whisper in her ear.

"Do not run. Do not call for help. For the next eight minutes and thirty-three seconds, you are mine."

"_Nitwit,"_ breathed Harry, acutely aware of how exposed she was. "Dumbledore assured me that you're not a threat, so why exactly do you _feel_ like one?"

His throaty chuckle emanated from every direction. "It is your nature. When faced with a boot, the ant knows that it is small."

Closing her eyes, Harry retreated into her mental corridor and called upon her manifestation of Ron. Despite the near constant danger of falling into a fantasy world with him, she always felt safer using Ron to fuel her defenses.

The redhead appeared at her side, smelling of grass and smiling amorously. "Hey, mate. You're looking fit today, as per usual."

"No time for that!" said Harry. "Lock them! All of them! Now!"

"Can't we have a snog first?"

"GO!"

Ron zipped off down the seemingly endless hallway, sealing thousands of doors at time. It was finished in seconds.

When Harry opened her eyes, she had to bite down on her tongue to stifle her reflexive scream. The skeletal monstrosity had made himself visible and his gaping, mutilated chest cavity was inches away from her face. She could see every beat of his exposed heart; every quivering murmur of his lungs. She could see the blood being squeezed through his non-existent veins, pumping through tiny invisible capillaries running every-which-way.

Averting her eyes, but not daring to move her feet, Harry steeled her nerves and asked, "What happened to the Tournament official? The one that was stationed here? Did you… kill him?"

"He had a fearsome gambling problem. I simply returned him to his debtors, so that we might have a moment to ourselves."

"And what is it that you want with me? Same thing as last time?"

"Very perceptive."

Harry shivered as metallic, silvery fingers grasped her chin and gently turned her head upwards, forcing her to gaze upon his decaying visage. He was missing even more flesh than she remembered. His neck was naught but spine and organ; the lower half of his unhinged jaw merely yellowed skull.

His one functioning, electric-blue eye bore down on her like a drill and the wand he was using to speak pulsed with a soft light. "I see that you've mastered a handful of Occlumency methods since last we spoke. Good. Very good. Force the beast down into the cage. _Enrage_ him. Give him less room to breathe so that when he does come up for air, his poison will be all the more volatile."

"W-Wait... _What?_ What do you-"

"_Bitte schweig!"_ snapped Nitwit, his thick accent crackling with authority. "The young people born of this century… you take far too long to say unimportant things, and ignore completely that which needs be said. So content are you to blather your lives away; so jubilant in your dithering noise. It _sickens_ me. _You_ will hold your tongue."

Desperately willing someone to save her, Harry went quiet.

He tilted her chin from side to side, appraising her the way a goblin would gold. "This is excellent work for under a year's practice. Thorough…strong… secure. And yet… it shares the same core weakness attributed to all construct Occlumency, focusing too much on the _physical_ aspect of protecting one's memories. Vaults, and walls, and locks… these are all objects that can be broken given the right amount of force. Any legilimens of moderate skill will know that when such a construct is violently dismantled…"

The man's feather-light mental tendrils became spiny and tangible. Harry cried out as they lashed at the doors to her memories, tearing through her reinforced seals like an axe through tissue paper.

"… the occlumens will experience pain. A true master does not use such constructs, for they make him vulnerable. The pinnacle of defensive Occlumency is not the ability to hide your memories away, but rather the ability to fabricate them."

"S-Stop," whispered Harry through clenched teeth. It felt as if someone was taking an eggbeater to her brain. She could hear Ron inside her head, screaming in agony. "Please, stop."

"I told you not to speak."

Helpless, Harry nodded, and the pain relented.

"Open your memories to me, girl. Hide yourself away in something early… in something innocent… and I promise I shall leave said memory unchecked. You will be spared the emotional upheaval as I peruse the last year."

When she did not obey, Nitwit tightened his grip on her chin.

"Open them... or I shall _break_ you."

Bitterly resigned, Harry retreated into the depths of her mind once more.

Ron was lying on his back in the center of corridor, gasping for air.

"_B-Bloody hell!_ That blighter is strong!"

"Open them, Ron."

"You can't be serious! I just-"

"Do it."

Grumbling, Ron picked himself off the floor and clicked his fingers. All of the doors swung open as one.

Grabbing the boy's hand, Harry zoomed along the hallway until she found a suitable place to hide. Stepping inside, she hauled Ron through the open compartment door, and slid it shut with a soft _click_.

"So we're just letting him in?" asked Ron incredulously. "We're not going to fight?"

"No. Not today. You said it yourself. He's too strong."

Looking put-out, Ron turned to face the three occupants of the small train carriage. They were laughing and joking as they played exploding snap, unaware of the dangers they would soon face.

"I remember this," said Ron. "Christmas Hols. Our first year. Look how scrawny we were."

Harry smiled fondly at her younger self. The black-haired girl was doing her very best to bait the eleven-year-old Ron into a tickle war.

"He told me to choose something innocent. This is about as close to innocent as I get."

"Innocent?"

"Yeah. The only worry I had on my mind that day was whether or not my pen pal would be as excited to see me as I was her. It was a good feeling. I… I was happy."

Ron sighed and stepped behind her, slipping his large hands around her waist. "You're not happy now?"

"I'm not," muttered Harry, thudding the back of her head against his broad chest. "I'm really not. And… And given that you _are_ me, you already knew that. Stop trying to confuse me."

"Confusing you isn't my intention. I just want to make you happy again." The tall boy's fingers hiked her shirt upwards, sliding inside to draw small circles around her navel. "It's why I'm here."

Harry bit her lip, trying not to enjoy the sensations his hands instilled. "You're here to protect me, Ron. That's all."

"That's _not_ all. I'm your Knight, remember?" Leaning down, tilting her head with his chin, he nibbled on the edge of her ear. "A Knight does _whatever_ his Queen requires."

The heat between her legs built rapidly as his mouth serviced her earlobe. Her desire flared, blocking all logical thought. She was in the process of reaching up to bury her fingers in his hair when her sanity finally returned.

"Stop it, damn you! This isn't real! You're… You're not _real!_"

"You're right. I'm not real. You're in control here, Harry. If you really wanted me to stop, you'd switch me out for Mione or ickle-Malfoy. And yet, you haven't."

One by one, Ron unfastened the buttons on her blouse.

_My blouse?_

Harry looked down. In place of her quidditch gear, there was half a Hogwarts uniform; the very same clothes that had been sported by her eleven-year-old counterpart. The three first years themselves had disappeared.

"The reason you haven't sent me away is because you know what I can do," breathed Ron, tugging her robe down and over her shoulders. "I can do what the real me is too afraid to do."

He wrapped her in a large hug, and Harry, unbalanced by the embrace, squeaked in surprise as they tipped forward, falling onto the compartment bench.

"I can give you what Ginny wouldn't," said Ron, lessening his weight on top of her, yet still managing to hold her close. "I can give you what you're craving."

She let out a soft moan as the boy began to kiss and nip at her neck, trailing his lips over her exposed shoulders. Were it not for the tenderness in his voice and the feeling of safety Harry experienced in his presence, his wantonly lustful touches might have frightened her, might have brought back memories she'd do anything to forget. As it was, they only heightened her growing arousal. This was Ron… and Ron would never knowingly hurt her.

"Everything you've dreamed of, Harry." One arm cradling her upper body, the other running a hand over her hips, he dipped his fingers beneath her skirt, looping them through the band of her knickers. "I can give it to you… but only if you let me."

"_R-Ron…_" panted Harry breathlessly. "It's not… It's not release that I want. It's more than that." She could feel his arousal brushing against her thigh as the train jostled. He was rock-hard and strong; strong… just as she had always needed him to be.

"I know," replied Ron, pressing a fleeting kiss into the dent between her shoulder blades. "Say yes, and you'll get it."

Half-naked and trembling, no longer caring what was real and what wasn't, Harry nodded her consent.

In one fluid motion, Ron dragged the slip of cloth down to her knees.

The train gave a great lurch… and her mind went wonderfully blank.

…

…

The shrill blast of a conductor's whistle sounded in the distance, jolting Harry to her senses.

Dancing around her legs, wrenching desperately at her wrist, was a small girl with messy black hair.

"_Mum!_ Are you even _listening_ to me? We're going to be late! Can we please just _go?_"

A tall, red-haired man standing on her left sighed and patted the impatient child on the head. He was carrying another girl in his arms, a redhead who couldn't have been older than six.

"Leave Mummy alone, Lily. She made your Aunt a promise… and Weasleys don't break promises, do they?"

"Well, _I _promise never to speak to either of you ever again if I miss the train!"

Harry stared blankly at the iron-fitted clock jutting from the wall above their heads. She had quite forgotten how she had come to be at King's Cross Station; had forgotten who these three people were and why she felt like they completed her.

Glancing down at the hand upon which the black-haired girl was tugging, she found that she was wearing another piece of jewelry apart from her charm bracelet. Wrapped snuggly at the base of her ring finger was a modest circlet of gold. Rotating the band, Harry read the elegant inscription inlaid around its center.

'_Knight takes Queen. Checkmate.' _

And as the full weight of those four simple words slowly began to sink in… _she remembered._

Her entire life flashed before her eyes: the day she had given herself to Ron on the train, their budding relationship, Hermione finally acknowledging them as a couple, the war, Voldemort defeated, Ron's proposal, joining the Harpies with Ginny, the wedding, Lily's birth, leading England to the cup, Molly's birth, raising two very unruly girls, Lily's letter, and finally this morning, when Ron had stepped into the shower with her.

"You alright?" asked Ron, depositing a squirming Molly next to her sister. "You look a bit out of sorts."

"I'm… I'm fine," said Harry, shaken by her fleeting amnesia. "For a moment I… no… never mind. I think I'm just tired."

He reached out and tangled his fingers in her hair. "That's my fault, I suppose. You really should lock the door, love. Can't help myself seeing you all soapy and-"

Before her husband could scar their children for life, Harry grabbed him by the collar and yanked him down for a searing, mind-numbing kiss. His mouth moved with hers in a familiar dance of passion that left her wishing they were still in bed.

"Eww!" moaned Lily. "I'm standing right here, you know!"

Ron grinned against Harry's lips and pulled back. "Pipe down, short stuff. You're so loud. I don't know where you get it from. Certainly not from-"

"She's here!" chimed Molly in her sweet, squeaky voice.

Harry turned. A beautiful, redheaded woman in a yellow sundress was strolling toward them through the crowd.

It was Ginny.

There was a flutter of longing in Harry's chest, a relic of old feelings. But… it was faint. What she had now eclipsed those urges entirely.

"Hello," said Ginny, greeting her brother and nieces with warm hugs, before finally rounding on Harry. "Sorry I'm late. I extended the morning run by ten miles and the girls got a bit sluggish near the end."

Harry smiled happily as her best friend, who hadn't been round for months, pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Always good to see you, Piggy."

"And you," whispered Harry, nuzzling the woman's neck. "How've you been?"

"Oh… as good as can be. Saw that healer about his new Dreamless Sleep potion. You know… the one that supposedly isn't harmful, or habit forming. What a load of crock it was. A _total_ scam."

"Do you… want me to come over? Have a nap?"

"No," said Ginny sharply. "And stop offering. I know Ron understands, but I don't want you to keep-"

Lily's loud sigh of exasperation cut the redhead off.

"All you two ever do is _talk!_ Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. You can talk later! Let's _go!_"

Pulling away from Ginny, Harry knelt and planted a kiss on her eldest daughter's head. "Alright, sweetheart, alright. Do you want to go through with your father or with me?"

Lily looked up at Ron, thought for a moment, and then turned back to Harry.

"You."

"Typical," grumbled Ron, bundling Molly into his arms once more. "Even my own child thinks I'm a prat."

"She's a smart girl," said Ginny teasingly. "You might have a Ravenclaw on your hands."

"We'll see. This little blighter just might end up in _Slytherin._"

Lily stamped her small foot. "Enough about Slytherin, Dad! If that hat doesn't put me in Gryffindor, you can bet you'll be getting a letter home saying that I've set it on fire."

Ron chuckled. "If that happens… well… I just might raise your allowance."

Harry positioned the cart in front of the barrier. "Ready?" she asked Lily, standing on one side of the trolley as Ginny took a spot on the other. "When you think you're going to crash, just close your eyes and-"

"_I know_, Mum!"

"Okay then. We go on three. One…"

"Two…" said Ginny.

"Three!" shouted Lily, grabbing the trolley and pushing with all her might.

Running at full speed, they barreled into the barrier and emerged onto the busy platform, Ron and Molly at their heels.

Lily squealed with delight, bouncing up and down on her toes to get a better look at the scarlet steam engine. "Do you see Auntie Mione? I want to show her my wand!"

"The teachers don't come to the platform," replied Harry, guiding their cart through the mass of people, waving at familiar faces as they passed. "You'll see her tonight, I expect. And just so you know, we've had words. She'll not spare you from detention if you start causing trouble."

They found an open compartment halfway down the train.

With a few flicks of her wand, Harry stowed her daughter's trunk and owl.

"I'm going to go find my friends!" said Lily, disappearing into the crowd before Harry could stop her.

Laughing at her stunned look, Ginny gave Harry a soft nudge with her hip. "She's a good girl, if a bit exuberant. You've done well with her. Molly too."

"Thanks." Harry returned the nudge. "They're worth the exhaustion."

"Were they worth leaving the Harpies?"

"_Ginny_… don't start this again."

"I'm serious, Harry! Why not come back? I know it got too difficult balancing training and home life after Molly was born, but with Lily heading off to Hogwarts and Mum willing to take care of Molly's basic schooling, you could manage it."

"Wouldn't that upset things within the team?"

"Not at all! The girls worship you, you're still quite fit, and I keep your name on the roster as an unpaid third-stringer. With a month's training, I could have you back at the top of your game and selling out the stadium."

"I don't know, Gin. I'll think about it." Harry shifted topics. "Let's talk about you. How's your new bloke… the muggle… erm… John?"

"Not my bloke anymore," said Ginny bitterly. "Broke up with me last week."

"Oh… I… Are you alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine. Bloody used to it, really. They _all_ break up with me in the end."

Harry frowned. "We should have made a night of it. Why didn't you come over?"

Ginny scoffed. "Oh let's think… Why _didn't_ I come over to cry on your shoulder? Could it be because I'm thirty-one and I don't need to run to you with all my problems anymore? Or maybe I'm tired of intruding on your _perfect_ life and your _perfect_ family? Or maybe because you…"

Ginny trailed off as she began to attract the stares of nearby families.

"Gin?"

"I'm sorry," sighed the redhead. "I need to go. I'm in a bad place, and this is a really special day for you and Ron."

"What? No!" Harry caught her hand. "At least stay and see Lily off."

"_Why?_ Watching children ride off on the Hogwarts Express is for _parents_… not for awkward third-wheel aunts. She's… She's not _my_ daughter, Harry."

Tugging her hand out of Harry's grip, Ginny spun and walked off.

"Ginny! Wait, I-"

"Something wrong?" asked Ron, sidling up beside her, toting Molly on his shoulders. "Where's she off to in such a huff?"

"I… I don't know. I hate it when she gets upset with me."

Ron studied her in silence, until finally, he looked up and gave Molly's legs a light shake. "Molls… what would you say to a weekend with Granny and Grandpa Weasley? Give your Mum and I a few days off?"

"YAAAY! Gnome hunting!"

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Balancing their youngest off to the side, Ron leaned down and lowered his voice to a husky whisper; low enough so that only Harry would hear.

"It's funny…" Hand sliding into her blue overcoat, he dipped his fingers around the curve of her bum and pressed at the sensitive flesh just behind her womanhood. "I'm going to have you moaning those exact same words later tonight."

Harry gasped and slumped into her husband's side, her knees shaking dangerously. It was at times like this that she regretted having allowed him such thorough exploration of her body. He knew all her weak spots.

"W-We're in _public_, Ron!"

"My apologies, dearest." Ron wiggled his fingers and Harry nearly collapsed. "Is that better?"

"You're… awful," she panted, clinging at his robe for support. "Remind me why I put up with you again?"

The man chuckled. "Well… probably because I'm one of the only people mad enough to want you."

Harry punched the fleshy part of Ron's bicep, and then quickly nuzzled the spot where her fist had made contact, fearful that he might somehow slip away. She wasn't sure why, but his words, even though spoken in jest, rang with a painful bite of truth.

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**Thanks for reading, everyone.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated, so leave one if you have the time.**

**Fan art, as always, can be found on the blog.**

Minor notes:

**1.** Quite a bit of _'telling'_ instead of _'showing'_ in this chapter. Sorry for that, but I really need to move things along.

**2.** In Deathly Hallows, Selwyn is the surname of one of the Death Eaters that tried to capture the trio at the Lovegood's tower. I thought they would work well as Pansy's maternal family. Hooray for Marin.

**3.** 50 galleons a month seems like an adequate salary for a full time apothecary clerk when the starting salary for DMLE Hitwizard Trainees is 700 a month. According to my rough estimates for the 90s, Arthur would be making something like 3,000 pounds a year _before_ taxes (and I'm assuming taxes exist in the wizarding world since they have a paid government workforce)… which is disgustingly unlivable for one person, let alone a man supporting a large family and a wife that doesn't work. Good thing food can be replicated by magic, else the Weasleys would all starve.

**4.** Yes, that was Fleur. No, she isn't attracted to women.

**5.** I had Sirius buy a 1963 Aston Martin DB4 convertible (my father's dream car - only 70 were ever made) simply because I could.

**6.** I'm guessing some of you will have a bone to pick with the mechanics of my hospital prophecy. I could have had Trelawny make it sure… but I simultaneously wanted to write something into the fic that would give credence to the large number of prophecies in the DoM (I know trying to explain Rowling's failure with numbers is a bad idea, but I couldn't help myself). In the books, McGonagall tells us that true Seers are extraordinarily rare. If that's the case, then even if the DoM somehow managed to record every prophecy ever made (and I doubt that this is the case), the sheer number of prophecies contained within the Hall of Prophecy doesn't quite play out. The hall is described as a massive chamber with a ceiling as high as a vaulted cathedral. The rows of shelves tower high over head and on each shelf there are hundreds (multiple hundreds) of glass orbs. At _minimum_, there are 97 rows of shelves (row 97 was where Harry's prophecy was located). This equates the minimum number of prophecies to over 19,000. That seems a little too steep if Seers really are as rare as we're led to believe.

**7.** Not relevant to this chapter, but I'm a little upset that Pottermore has Merlin attending Hogwarts. It breaks my established Flamel timeline. Now I have to come up with a way to explain it away. Perhaps something along the lines of Merlin attending Hogwarts in disguise just so he could mindfuck the Founders with his apparent brilliance. Yeah, that'll work.

**8.** If I haven't replied to your review or pm from the past year, I'm sorry, but I just don't have the time to go back and answer them. Rest assured, I did read everything as it came along. If you still have a question that's burning you up inside, ask again and hopefully I'll get you an answer.


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